


Sal'ethast

by Lunafeather



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2015, F/M, Happy Ending, Multi, Post-Trespasser, Sad with a Happy Ending, Solas x Naia Lavellan, Solavellan, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunafeather/pseuds/Lunafeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious stranger is sent into the past and alters the course of Fen'harel's plans to tear down the veil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was written for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang. As it was written to be paired with an artist's work, the Inquisitor in this story (and the story itself) is not connected in any way to any of my personal canons.
> 
> Artwork by mykadeggenheym.tumblr.com to be added soon!
> 
> Written for Natalia, I hope you love it!

Smoke hung heavily in the air, wafting lazily around their tents and through the trees surrounding their camp. Ash kicked up and through the canopies, buffeted by the gentle rise and fall of a cool breeze. Night thrived around them as they slept, animals chittering and scurrying through underbrush, owls diving for a meal, druffalo puffing and snorting in slumber.

 

Brielle lay on her back in her tent, staring up at the canvas and the firelight that licked and danced along the seams. Drova snored quietly in the next tent over, his foot tapping unconsciously against one of his tent posts. It used to drive Bri insane, the constant _thunk, thunk, thunk,_ but so much time spent with this crew had numbed her to it. If she strained, she could hear Jenson in the sleeping bag next to Drova, grumbling under his breath. Bri and Diana made the noisy ones sleep in their own tent.

 

Diana slept soundly beside her, curled into a ball beneath her blankets, her pointed ears peeking out between heavy locks of brown hair. Bri watched her side rise and fall, rise and fall… if she focused it might lull her into sleep herself…

 

A twig snapped outside the clearing they had set up camp in, instantly jolting Bri completely awake. She slowed her breathing so that she could listen, but no other sounds came and she relaxed. Her gaze returned to the canvas above her, her eyes tracing the light as it moved in random patterns. Restless fingers searched out the edge of the curve of her bow lying a foot away, always in reach. She had learned how to craft from an elven friend as a preteen, and after many ugly attempts at a bow, had hand carved the beauty of her ‘Snapshot’, as she lovingly nicknamed it.

 

This forest wasn’t exceedingly dangerous. They had yet to run into any beasts they could not handle, despite the four of them having spent nearly three weeks hiking so far, following a half burnt and practically illegible map in an attempt to find a set of very old and very mysterious Elven ruins.

 

The others were in it for whatever loot could be found, but Bri… she wanted answers. She wanted help.

 

She needed it to try to bring down the Evanuris.

 

The tyrant mages ruled Thedas with iron fists. Non-elven races were treated like scum: enslaved, abused, despised. Of course, no one called it _slavery_. No one called it _abuse_. It was passed off as unfair wages, despicable living conditions, violence and hatred, all brought on by their own savage and delinquent behavior. None of it was the Evanuris’ or the elves’ fault! Even though many elves themselves lived in poverty and neglect. Still, they held the Evanuris in high esteem, worshipped them like deities, depended on them for everything.

 

Bri clenched her fingers into the slippery material of her sleeping bag. She hated them. She hated everything they did, everything they stood for. The people were too blind to see how manipulated they were, how evil their leaders were. And she couldn’t sit idly by any longer.

 

Taking a deep breath, Bri closed her eyes. Getting worked up about it right now would not solve anything. She had to be patient, save up her anger, and then use it against them when the time was right. She had spent the last thirteen years of her life searching for clues, searching for answers… She had joined numerous expeditions in search of Elven ruins, most of them looking for treasure and valuables. Some were archaeology and paleontology search groups; she learned the most, and had the most fun, during those trips. She had found her current group a few months prior. Though their objective was loot, they were thorough and diligent, with excellent connections. Diana used her Dalish clan to secure information from various keepers; the underground groups were stingy with their knowledge, but generous with one of their own. Diana used her status as First to gain access to their deepest of secrets, even though she only cared about garnering enough money to move her family somewhere safe and secure and as far from the Evanuris’ ever present puppeteering.

 

Drova was their muscle. He was seven and a half feet tall and built like an ox - more so than the average Qunari. He barely spoke, communicated mostly in grunts and monosyllables, but he got by well enough. He helped them lift and carry things, and rushed into combat like a man on steroids.

 

Jenson was some rich human Bann’s son, out to make his own fortune. Stubborn as a mule and cocksure beyond words, Bri could barely stand him, mainly because he flirted - or attempted to flirt - with her every chance he got (thinking she didn’t see him flirting with Diana every _other_ chance he got). The only reason they kept him around was because he was a damn good healer, trained up right in the Evanuris’ magical camps, the things they used to call Circles back in the day.

 

All of her previous excursions and the efforts of her rebel network had resulted in a mish mash of evidence of an ancient Elven temple laying in almost complete rubble, with a giant Eluvian at its center. This artifact was unique, the designs swirling around its edges markedly different from other Eluvians. It had been lost to scholars a few hundred years ago, but Bri had a feeling it was just what she was looking for. A step in the right direction to bringing the Evanuris down.

 

She turned her wrist to look at her watch.

 

2:33AM.

 

She really needed to get to sleep, but her mind refused to turn off. Excitement hummed beneath her skin, like her body knew how close they were. Her fingers drummed impatiently along her sleeping bag in an attempt to expend some of her nervous energy, but it helped little.

 

An hour - maybe more? - passed with little event, and at some point, sleep claimed her. She dreamt fitfully, images stuttering through her mind, dark and twisting beings taunting her, swooping around her. And then calm seemed to settle in her dream, though darkness swarmed around her as if it was alive. She moved cautiously, slogging through it, nerves frazzled but ever alert. And then she began to relax, sinking slowly into the inky blackness.

 

Just as she began to drift, a growling shriek rang out in her mind, the sound like claws dragging on glass, the glass shattering with each tick along its smooth surface. Bri screamed in her sleep and whirled around and around, looking for the source, but the blackness swelled and began to suffocate her. Other voices began to scream, shouting in pain and terror, the noise escalating into a cacophony of horror. Bri thought her heart might burst with how terrible it all felt, her brain might explode as it became overwhelmed with noise.

 

She woke suddenly, was aware of her wakefulness, but the sounds did not stop. Above her, fire licked along the roof of her tent -- _inside her tent!_ Bri yelled and pressed down into her sleeping bag, away from the heat. She looked around, ignoring the frantic thump of her pulse, to find herself alone in the tent; Diana’s sleeping bag was empty.

 

Outside, shadows danced and shifted and the shouting continued, as well as the sounds of a fight now mixing in. Bri rolled onto her belly and grabbed her bow and backpack stuffed with arrows before shimmying through the opening of the tent. Outside, their campsite was completely trashed. The firepit had been thrown from it’s place; flames blazed in the trees around the clearing, and the other tent had collapsed in the heat of it, the material melting and burning. Their small pile of belongings were strewn throughout the trees.

 

A ball of ice streaked into the clearing, and Bri barely dove out of its way. She jumped to her feet and turned to see Jenson sprinting away from something, mindlessly flinging spells in every direction.

 

“Run!” he shrieked, and the fear in his voice sent a chill down Bri’s spine. He was literally afraid for his life.

 

“What’s going on?” she yelled back, quickly knocking an arrow. Before he could answer, Diana and Dovah stampeded into the campsite, bleeding and panting.

 

“We need to get out of here, _now!”_ Diana’s voice rang with panic. She yanked at Bri’s hand. “Please,” she sobbed. “It’s coming! We barely managed to subdue it, but it’s coming!”

 

“What are you--”

 

But the elf was off, sprinting in the opposite direction they came. Dovah followed, clutching at his great two handed axe. As he passed, Bri could see tears streaming across his cheeks, mixing with the blood from a nasty head wound. Jenson followed, choking on his own sobs. Bri looked at the direction they came, brows drawn together in consternation, but then she heard it --

 

A bellowing growl, like nails on glass.

 

She felt like ice had slid through her veins.

 

Had she not been dreaming after all?

 

Crashing noises wafted from that direction, the sound of trees snapping and the earth trembling. Bri saw a flash of… _something_. Dread compounded the ice in her limbs, and she turned and followed her companions.

 

She didn’t know where they were running. They were three weeks of travel deep into this forest, and had not come across another sentient being in that entire time. They would never find help before whatever was chasing them caught up.

 

And they weren’t even going in the right direction.

 

The creature was drawing closer, easily overtaking their speed. It sounded big. No wonder Dovah looked scared out of his mind.

 

She didn’t realize just how close it was until a tree fell to her left, it’s long trunk swishing through the night air like a knife. She could barely see, now that they were so far from their fiery camp, but she couldn’t miss the movement of the oak. It collided with the earth with a thud that seemed to shake everything around them. Ahead of her, Jenson cried out, weeping openly.

 

And then a growl behind her, as if it was pressing its mouth to her ear.

 

_Fuck._

 

Diana cried out thirty feet away, though the noise was one almost of joy. As Bri caught up, she realized that stone outcroppings had begun to spring up among the trees. A minute later and she was stumbling into a courtyard.

 

An Elven courtyard.

 

The four of them stood in the center of it, bathed in moonlight, awed and stunned. They had found what they had been looking for.

 

And they had no time to revel in it. Something rammed the wall closest to them. Bri glanced over her shoulder to see a hulking, brown-green beast at least fifteen feet tall, it’s hands armed with nails like knives at least a foot long. A long tail curled and flicked behind it, the end a solid ball of what looked like bone, meant for smashing. Six red eyes leveled themselves at her, narrow and gleaming.

 

She screamed.

 

The others had already fled, and Bri tripped as she chased them. The beast leapt up onto one of the crumbling walls, sprinting along it’s edge with the grace of a cat. Everything that happened next seemed to happen at once. Jenson cast a barrier around himself, Dovah, and Diana. Bri re-nocked an arrow and let it fly, but it barely glanced off the beast. The monster pounced onto the barrier, shattering it instantly. Diana screamed and slashed at it with her daggers, but the beast swung at her and sent her flying, blood exploding as its arm impacted with her body. Bri smashed a flask against herself, using the magic of the concoction to send her arrows flying in a flurry she was otherwise incapable of. Each arrow hit its mark, slicing into the beast, but it did not slow. Jenson launched more ice at it, but it deflected them all. Dovah ran.

 

They couldn’t win. They were going to die.

 

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. They were so close. They had found the ruins, possibly found the mirror.

 

But now it was too late.

 

The beast grabbed Jenson’s head in one large hand and squeezed. Bri closed her eyes against the noise of his skull being crushed, and sprinted in the opposite direction, around a wall of the courtyard. She darted through broken doorways and over damaged walls, down derelict staircases. The entire structure rumbled with the beast’s movement, but she could not tell where it was. Instead she looked, scouting for the mirror, hoping she could at least lay eyes on it before the beast killed her.

 

After ten minutes of frantic running and hiding, she stumbled into an open chamber with high walls covered in vines and moss. The room was empty, devoid of any signs of recent life, and Bri felt like time had been frozen here. At the center of the room stood an Eluvian, twenty feet tall and decorated with red swirling patterns along its edges. It was unlike any Eluvian she had ever seen, in real life or on the internet.

 

The surface of the mirror glimmered and rippled. Was it still active…?

 

As soon as she took a step toward it, Dovah barrelled into her from behind, knocking them both to the ground. Her bow skittered across the stone floor, coming to rest a few feet away. Dovah rolled onto his back, horror washing across his face as he looked up. Bri glanced over her shoulder to see the monster stalking toward them. The doorway they had just come through was the only entrance to the chamber. They were trapped.

 

The beast lunged forward, its arms sweeping forward to grab the both of them. Bri barely managed to roll out of the way, but the monster seized Dovah around the middle, the qunari shrieking in pain as the animal squeezed. Bri dove for her bow and then jumped to her feet, spinning just in time to watch the beast rip Dovah neatly in half, his blood spraying in a neat arc.

 

Bri backed toward the Eluvian, meeting the beast’s gaze as best she could. If she could edge close enough to the mirror...she might be able to get through it before the beast could reach her.

 

One...two... _three_.

 

She began to turn to lurch toward the Eluvian, but the monster sensed her plan. It swung its arm forward, but misjudged Bri’s speed. Its claws scraped painfully against her temple, rending her skin and tearing at her scalp. She screamed as she fell toward the Eluvian, and the pain was so intense she instantly blacked out.

 

 


	2. Rescue

“Was Lord Fen’harel really that pissed?”

“I thought he was going set my arm on fire, the way he was looking at me. Didn’t think that was quite fair, I was just the messenger.”

A loud laugh. “He lashes out at everyone these days, ever since he saw the Inquisitor again.”

Naia leaned against the wall of her hiding place, listening intently to the conversation taking place between two of Solas’ agents. They lounged casually on a couple of crates, smoking rolls of elfroot. The rest of her team were spread throughout the base, slowly infiltrating and setting up the ambush. Naia ran her fingers along the edges of her dagger. She had yet to use the weapon in actual combat; instead she spent hours training with Cassandra and Cullen, learning how to balance her weight without her left arm and how to best utilize a blade. It was a significantly different fighting style than when she could use a bow, and so Varric was tucked a few yards away to assist her if she needed it.

“He still won’t say anything about that?”

“About that mission?” A snort of derision. “Yeah, no. The last person who asked has been stationed in the Wastes.”

“Shit, he’s moody.”

“He’s always been.”

Naia frowned. Did her agents gossip like this?

“So he’s coming to escort her himself?”

Naia froze, her ears twitching.

“Yeah, after he finished his tirade about not being informed earlier, he sent me back here to let everyone know that he will be coming to get her. Apparently it’s a big deal that she was found near this specific location. He had to prepare special lodging for her. Himself.”

“Wow.” A thoughtful pause. “Some kind of magic prison cell? Interesting that Lord Fen’harel couldn’t delegate it to one of his higher ups. You’d think they’d be strong enough.”

A humorless chuckle, followed by the scuffling of feet as they put out their cigarettes. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re plenty strong enough. He just doesn’t trust anyone.”

The two agents moved about for another second, likely retrieving their gear, and then began their descent down the hallway, past Naia. She waited until one was just in view - a tall, gangly Dalish elf, judging by the style of his foot wrappings - and then she struck, hooking her arm and flinging her dagger so that it whistled through the air toward him. The blade sliced the tendon at the base of his ankle, a terribly painful wound meant to incapacitate but not kill. The elf howled with pain and fell to his knees at the same moment three bolts embedded themselves in the other elf’s knee, the short and stout agent twisting with the impact and collapsing onto his back.

Naia leapt from her hiding place and quickly made her way to the pair, yanking the small curved sword from her hip and pointing the sharp tip at the thinner agent’s throat, while Varric ambled over, a grin plastered on his face.

“Andraste’s tits, Sunspot, look at you with that thing!” He shook his head.

Naia smiled back, pleased with herself. She had been nervous about her skill with a new weapon, but it seemed that her hard work had paid off.

“Our spymaster would be beaming with pride if she could see,” Varric snarked.

“Oh shut up, Varric,” Naia shot back, though the barb was affectionate. She looked down again at the agents, who were both still groaning and whining with pain. “If you are quiet, no further harm will come to you. And if you tell us what we want to know, we may even let you go.”

The agents glared up at her, then glanced at each other, while Naia studied the Dalish elf’s face, noting the distinct lack of vallaslin. He met her gaze.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice biting.

“Tell us about this girl.”

Bri cowered at the bottom of the closet, tucking herself into a ball and hugging her knees to her chest, her forehead pressed against a hole torn into her pants. She sniffed back another wave of tears, trying to quell the trembling that had not ceased since her captors found her near the giant mirror.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know  _who_  she was. She only remembered that her name was Bri -- the shadows in her dreams had called her that -- and she instinctively knew how to fire a bow. Her captors had learned that quickly when they had attempted to move her and she had woken up, and she had immediately snatched her bow from the ground and nocked an arrow. One of them had magic, however, and quickly immobilized her, but her fingers had known exactly what to do, her body had launched into a dance it had obviously memorized without even a second thought.

She felt strange, here - wherever here was. It was an empty feeling, like her skin buzzed with the  _lack_  of something, almost like the humming one hears when there is no sound. She felt… wrong. And that feeling of being out place only fueled her fear.

They had let her keep her bow, at least, instead of snapping it in half as they almost did. Her howling tears had stopped them in their tracks, and her broken begging convinced them to stow her bow away. She missed the familiar feeling of it in her hand, the smooth embossed wood against calloused fingers, even though she wasn’t exactly sure why it was so important to her.

Bri sniffled and rubbed her nose against her jeans. She had to get out of here. She had to find her bow and she had to get out of here. Honestly, she didn’t have a clue what she would do  _after_  that, but her finely honed survival instinct screamed at her to run away from this place.

A key clicked in the lock, instantly perking Bri up.

“Stand away from the door,” a voice rumbled. When she said nothing in response, it repeated, “Stand away from the door.”

Bri moved into a crouch, peeking through the crack in the closet’s doors. Whoever had knocked carefully eased into the room, looking around for her, their arms full with a tray of food. They were alone. Her stomach growled, but she knew this was her chance to get away. The agent was female, a tall slender elf with deep brown skin and bright blue eyes. She laid the tray of food on the desk by the bed before turning and looking around the small space.

“Where have you gotten to?” The woman turned toward the closet, her hand lifting to pull open one of the doors. Bri held her breath. When the agent was positioned  _just right_ , Bri launched herself against the door, knocking it into the agent and sending her flying into the desk, landing with a hard _thwump_ on top of the tray of food. Bri leapt to her feet and sprinted from the room, barely sparing the elven woman a second glance.

 

* * *

 

After offering Solas’ agents some bandages and a health poultice or two, and extracting enough info to find an office where some of Solas’ intel was held, Naia and Varric slowly wove their way through side passages and dark hallways, Varric with Bianca loaded and ready to fire, Naia with her sword held aloft. They quietly approached a corner near the room they were looking for. Naia poked her head past the threshold, her eye catching on a pair of Solas’ agents about to turn around and see her--

An explosion shook the stone walls of the base, clumps of dirt and loose cement sprinkling down from the ceiling. Naia watched as the guards ahead regained their footing and then took off in the opposite direction, muttering to each other.

Naia looked over her shoulder at Varric, who shrugged.

“Looks like Dagna’s bombs came in handy.”

The two of them rushed forward and into what looked like an old study, the bookcases and tables dusted with fine cobwebs. A great oak desk stood against one wall, every inch piled with parchment and maps and markers, stubs of candles lit with veilfire placed on each corner. Naia ruffled through the pages, skimming for anything relevant they could take with them. Varric wandered around the room, eyeing the old tomes stacked together in the bookcases.

“You ever wonder if Chuckles has allergies? I mean, he was asleep for a thousand years, right? His respiratory system must be ancient.”

“Varric, please. Really? You’re worried about his  _respiratory system?_ ”

“I mean, yeah. Guy’s gotta have some kind of asthma. Didn’t you ever notice how much he coughed when we were out in the field?”

Naia smirked. “I think he was coughing in an attempt to subtly inform you of your missteps with our illustrious Seeker. You obviously didn’t get the memo. Good thing she suffered through all of your ill attempts at seductive humor.”

“I’ll have you know that I am the  _master_  of seductive humor. In fact--”

Naia’s brows furrowed at the sudden silence, turning around to ask him what he had found--

A human girl, a nasty pair of gashes delving from her left eyebrow into her golden hair. Her face contorted in aggression as pointed an arrow at Varric’s throat, his hands raised in submission. She stood in the doorway of a room neither Naia nor Varric had noticed in the corner of the study.

“Don’t move,” the girl ground out. She swallowed thickly. Naia could see the way the girl’s arm trembled as she held her bowstring taut.

Naia held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “We won’t hurt you. We simply want to gather some information, that’s all.”

“Are you with that lord? The one who is supposed to come and take me?”

“No. We’re here to gather intel on his operation.”

“Why should I believe you? What if this is a trick?”

“I swear to you that I speak the truth. Our coalition is trying to stop Fen’harel, we wish you no harm. We both just happened to be in the same place at the same time.”

Bri stared at her, breathing heavily, and then lowered her bow. Her mouth fell open to speak when another explosion shook the room, this one much closer. Naia looked up just in time to see part of the ceiling beginning to give way.

“Look out!” she shouted, tackling Varric. They tumbled to the ground together just out of the area of impact. When Naia rolled off of her companion and sat up, the girl was nowhere to be found. “ _Fenedhis_.” Above them, the ceiling continued to crumble threateningly. Naia helped Varric to his feet, shoving him toward the door. “We need to get out of here, now. They’ve begun the next phase. Grab some of the missives on the table, and then we’ll hunt Cullen down.”

 

* * *

 

Finding Cullen proved to be more complicated than they expected. The strength of Dagna’s bombs were  _also_  unexpected; she tended to get a little crazy when crafting new things, and they had not had a chance to test the explosives out before their mission. As such, the base continued to deteriorate around them. Varric and Naia darted through collapsing tunnels and hallways, knocking out the occasional Agent of Fen’harel. They kept an eye out for the girl, with little success.

When they reached the central chamber of the base, the grand building around them was on its last legs. Fen’harel’s agents scrambled to get down a hallway off the side of the chamber, while Naia’s moved toward the front entrance. Varric rushed off toward Cassandra the second she came into view, and Naia was on his heels when she noticed a scuffle across the vast room. The blonde girl, Bri, was being dragged toward the hallway by one of Solas’ men, kicking and screaming, clawing at whatever skin she could reach. Naia eyed the roof and the cracks slowly stretching across it and made a decision.

Luckily, losing her arm had had no effect on her agility as she sprinted toward the struggling pair. She tucked herself into a slide and swiped her leg into the agent’s, effectively knocking him down and loosening his grip on the girl. Bri fell to her knees, panting, then looked frantically around as if searching for something. Naia yanked her dagger from its sheath on her amputated arm, pointing it at the man’s throat.

“Get out of here.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He was on his feet in a flash and escaping down the hallway behind them. Naia’s eyes caught on something buried beneath a small pile of dust and rocks -- the bow the girl had been carrying earlier. Naia snatched it up and held it out to her.

Bri’s eyes widened.

“Take it and go,” Naia said. She nodded toward the front entrance of the chamber. “Hurry!”

Bri didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed her bow, leapt up, and ran.

Naia glanced down the hallway, sorely tempted to see where all of Solas’ agents were escaping to, but she knew that going alone was too large a risk to take. She turned, ready to leave with the others when suddenly she was on her stomach, dust and large chunks of stone cascading around her in a shower of debris, but none of it touched her - instead bouncing off of a firm bright green barrier. She flipped onto her back to see Solas standing a few feet away at the mouth of the hallway.

It was the first time they had seen each other since he had removed the anchor. She could not help but be struck, as always, by his beauty, by the features she had fallen in love with so long ago. His expression was hard, emotionless, but she could see the flicker of something in his eyes as he watched her. He strode forward and held his hand out to help her up. The warmth of the contact, even through their gloves, sent a sizzle racing up her arm and down her spine. She saw a hint of the same reaction in the way his eyebrows twitched. He hovered close to her once she was on her feet - for only a second, enough to take a deep breath and close his eyes. When he stepped back again, the mask was firmly back in place.

“You seem intent on being the thorn in my side,  _vhenan_.”

Naia smiled, gazing at him with unabashed affection. “It is a habit I cannot seem to break,  _ma’isha_ ,” she said sweetly. Solas shook his head, but Naia could have sworn his mouth curled upwards into a ghost of a smile.

“Go, _vhenan_ , before this place collapses completely.”

She watched him for a moment,  _ar lath ma_  on the tip of her tongue, and then she fled away from him to join her companions.


	3. Nightmares

Naia and her people watched the regal keep collapse into ruin as they gathered their horses and the small carriage that had transported their supplies. Dusty, dirty faces were pinched with fatigue, but the coalition climbed onto their horses to return to their main base just shy of a week’s travel away. Halfway home they found Bri curled underneath a pile of armor, defiant as ever. Cullen suggested returning to their base with her so that they could question her, and Naia agreed without hesitation.

She wanted to know more about this mysterious stranger.

As soon as they arrived, they led her into one of the small offices in the estate that had become their headquarters, letting her keep her bow hung across her chest as she settled into a sturdy wooden chair at the desk in the room. Naia sat opposite her, while Cullen prowled restlessly around them and Cass and Leliana lounged in adjacent corners.

Naia folded her hands together in her lap. “Your name is Bri?”

The girl - Bri - nodded. “Brielle. I don’t remember what my surname is.”

“You do not remember?” Leliana asked, seeking clarification.

Bri looked down, shaking her head. “No. I don’t remember anything from before the mirror.”

“Fen’harel’s agents told me that they found you by an Eluvian, one that had been lost for thousands of years. How did you find it?” Naia raised an eyebrow.

“I told you, I don’t remember anything,” Bri said, and her tone was sharp with exhaustion. “I woke up by this giant mirror, or Eluvian, or whatever you call them, with this huge gash in my face. I don’t know how I got it, or how I got there. I woke up, and I started walking, and these guys found me and attacked me. They took me prisoner and brought me to that castle.”

Cassandra snorted. “There has to be more to it than that!”

Bri glared at her. “Why does there have to be? Obviously something happened to me that knocked my memories out of my head. The dreams murmur to me, but they just seem to be taunting me, not actually helping me remember.”

“The dreams?” Cullen finally stopped pacing, coming to a halt at Naia’s left shoulder.

With a sigh, Bri slouched a little in her chair. “Yeah, the dreams. It’s only been a few days since I woke up in front of the mirror. I’ve felt...weird the whole time, and when I finally managed to fall asleep, all these weird shadows started talking to me. Poking me, prodding me. Laughing at me. I don’t know what the hell that’s about…”

“Demons, maybe?” Cullen said to Naia.

Bri snorted. “Demons? In my dreams?”

Naia nodded thoughtfully. “Possibly…” She met Bri’s eye. “Why did Fen’harel want to move you? Did your guards say?”

“No! They wouldn’t tell me anything! The just grabbed me, and tried to break my bow, and bound me.” She hugged her bow against her chest. “Then they just ignored me until we got to the castle. I was left in that room until you guys showed up. Well… until I escaped, really.”

Silence fell over the room like a hush. Naia and her companions watch Bri as she fiddled with the curl of wood at one end of her bow. When she stifled a yawn, Naia’s voice was soft, kind, as she said, “You look very tired. You’ve barely slept? What do you dream of?”

Bri said nothing for a moment. And then, “It’s hard to describe. It’s always dark. Dark and twisty. Shadows follow me as I run. Usually it’s some kind of beast behind me, as tall as a house with claws longer than my arm. Someone, something, laughs. Lots of someones laugh. One voice calls to me, beckoning me deeper into the blackness. I try to run away, but it feels like I’m running in quicksand - the harder I struggle, the faster I sink. I can’t speak. I try to scream, but nothing comes out, it just feels like I’m swallowing water. They keep coming, they don’t stop! I try to wake, I try to shake myself, but nothing works and I keep sinking deeper and deeper--” Bri’s voice climbed in pitch, the words frantic, as if pulled from the depths of her soul, and she began to cry, her shoulders shaking.

“Stop. Stop!” Cullen interrupted. The women stared at him, caught completely off guard. He lifted his hand to rub his fingers along the back of his neck. “She does not need to go into such detail. Night terrors are not an easy thing to describe.”

Bri watched him with wide, watery eyes, a blush blooming across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“I think that’s enough,” Naia said slowly. “We have had a room prepared for you, Bri. My room is on one side, Cullen’s is on the other. We will be there if you need us, any time of night. Why don’t you get some rest? The agent outside will show you where to go.”

Bri looked from each face to the next. Her tongue darted out to nervously wet her lips, and then she nodded and stood, quietly excusing herself. Behind her, the four friends exchanged thoughtful glances.

Naia stood and cracked her neck. “Let’s meet tomorrow morning to discuss the intel we stumbled upon at Solas’ base.”

 

* * *

 

Cool air from the lake nearby wafted through windows thrown wide open, the subtle breeze tickling along Bri’s exposed arms and legs. She stared up at the ceiling, half wishing to sleep and half praying not to, terrified of what lurked in her mind, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Cicadas chirped lazily outside, and the sound was almost soothing, lulling her into a state of calm. Her eyes fluttered open and closed with each deep breath, and her transition into the fade was seamless, like sinking into a fresh, warm bath.

Things started off well enough. She meandered through a sea of tall grass, her fingertips grazing each blade as she went by. An orange sky rolling with fluffy pink clouds stretched above her. Willows dangled their long, spindly branches, their boughs swaying as a breeze picked up. And picked up, and picked up. Soon the wind whipped against Bri’s face, pinpricks stinging along her skin. She closed her eyes, bending her head to bury her nose in her scarf for a reprieve from the sudden change in weather. When her eyes opened again, the sky was black, violent storm clouds rumbling overhead, lightning clashing with brilliant sparks of white light. The grass she waded through abruptly began slicing through her clothes, nicking her fingertips until she was burying her hands against her coat. The dirt beneath her feet clung to her boots, making it hard to walk and sucking the soles deeper and deeper until she struggled to lift them.

And then the whispering started. Murmurs of laughter, of veiled threats and insults. Tickles along the shell of her ears as if someone - or something’s - breath ghosted against her skin. She whimpered softly, the terror swelling in her gut. The grass around her melted slowly into the earth, the willow trees dissolved into piles of black muck. Soon, Bri could not move, the mud beneath her climbing up her ankles, yanking her down, down, down. She screamed, but no sound erupted from her throat.

Lightning crashed around her, and the resulting flash illuminated a sudden beast looming just out of her range of vision. She tried to scream again, but still nothing. She tried to thrash, to move, to claw herself away, but nothing worked, she didn’t budge -- another flash of lightning and the monster stepped closer. It hovered above her, as tall as a house, its mouth a gaping maw of crooked teeth as sharp as the dagger she kept hidden in her boot. But that dagger certainly wouldn’t save her now, not with this creature inches away. Thunder boomed, and the earth itself seemed to tremble with the force of it. Another flash - the beast’s eyes ignited white, and scars like the naked branches of a tree snaked down its neck and across its chest, along its arms and legs. The beast shrieked, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, agonized and lost and overwhelmingly terrifying. Bri was frozen to the spot. None of her limbs would cooperate, they hung there uselessly until the lightning marks ricocheted off the ground and up her legs, through her abdomen and up her neck --

And then she was finally moving, but not by her own choice. Something controlled her, something told her body how to move, where to move, what to move. She opened her mouth again and screamed, and this time it was not silent, the noise echoed through the room --

Bri realized belatedly that she had sat up in bed and that her dream screaming had somehow translated into  _real_  screaming. She had barely a chance to close her mouth and stop the sound when her door burst open, and Cullen stumbled inside.

“Are you alright?” he gasped, clearly still half asleep but swiftly becoming more alert.

Bri opened her mouth to respond, but instead promptly burst into tears and hid her face in her hands. Cullen rushed over to her bed, stopping a foot or so away when he realized what he was doing - he hesitated just out of reach of her, hovering on the edge of what seemed proper.

“What happened?” Naia swooped through the doorway and froze. A few of the nightly patrols gathered behind her to peer into the room. “Is everyone okay?”

Sniffling, Bri wiped at her eyes as she continued to cry. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, but her voice trembled.

Cullen turned to Naia and the agents. “Go back to bed, I’ll stay with her.” The patrol waited until Naia nodded her agreement before disappearing back down the hallway. Naia stood for a moment, regarding Cullen with a look he couldn’t quite place.

“Are you sure?” she finally said.

He nodded. “Go back to bed, Naia.” He faced Bri again, whose tears had slowed into pitiful sniffles. He gestured to a spot next to her on the bed. “May I sit?”

Bri nodded as brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Your name is Cullen? The, uh… the Inquisitor said you were their Commander?”

He lowered himself next to her and smiled. “Yes, I was the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces.” He played idly with the hem of his sleeping tunic. “I was a templar, before that, in Kirkwall. But I left the order when the Inquisition was in its earliest stages.”

“You were a templar? So… you use lyrium?”

He met her eye as she watched him warily over her knees. “I did, yes. But I decided that I would no longer, when I left the order. I have been clean ever since.” Cullen cleared his throat. “I’ve always had terrible nightmares, from the lyrium. Withdrawal only made them worse. I don’t think I got a good night’s rest until very recently.”

“The nightmares… they haven’t stopped since I woke up by that mirror. Every time I manage to fall asleep, the voices come back… I’m afraid to close my eyes.”

Cullen nodded sympathetically. “I can understand that. I must have stayed awake for days at a time when I first went off lyrium. I would do anything to avoid going to bed, wrapping myself up in as much work as I could…” He chuckled. “Naia would get so frustrated. She used to love pointing out the bags under my eyes, trying to lightly shame me into sleeping. She knew I was struggling, she hoped to cajole me. Through some trial and error, we learned one thing that seemed to help…” He blushed abruptly, the red spreading up his cheekbones to his ears.

Bri cracked a small smile. When he didn’t continue, her smile grew. “What? What helped?”

Cullen cleared his throat. “She would - ah - hold my hand, until I had fallen asleep. After an hour or two, when she was sure I was sleeping peacefully, she would leave for her own quarters. It helped immensely, having that human connection to ground me. Eventually I stopped needing the comfort every night.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like an hour, though the pregnant pause lasted only a few minutes. Bri dropped her hand to her mattress and inched it slightly closer to Cullen. His eyebrows jerked upwards in surprise that he quickly schooled into calm curiosity.

“Would you…” She licked her lips nervously. “Would you hold mine until I fall asleep?” And after a second: “Please?”

The flush burned brighter against Cullen’s lightly tanned skin, but he slid his hand around hers, squeezing her fingers in reassurance. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Naia watched the scene unfold from just around the doorframe. The innocence of the exchange, the pure comfort offered and accepted, the tentative attempt at building a fledgling relationship - it struck such a deep chord of longing in her soul that she fled to her room as soon as their hands touched.

She missed Solas. She felt his absence like the gaping wound that it was, stretching with every day that had passed since he had removed the anchor, with every dream they spent staring at one another from across an unending distance. Naia was bewildered that she had somehow made it the two years between the defeat of Corypheus - and Solas’ disappearance - and his resurgence during the Exalted Council without being consumed by melancholy. She felt herself drowning, now, swallowing seawater and slowly sinking into what she knew would be a dangerous depression.

She tried to stay positive, for her friends, for her coalition. And she had perfected that mask, never daring to let them see the heartbreak etched across her soul. Sometimes she caught Varric staring at her, an odd, calculating look in his eye, but either he dismissed his suspicions or he was too polite to approach her with them. Cullen spent more and more time by her side, though he never came right out with  _why_  he did so. Still, she welcomed the distractions her friends provided.

But they were not awake to provide them now. Except Cullen, but his compassion was needed elsewhere. Hadn’t she burdened him with her emotions enough?

Warmth curled through her bedroom, the hearth roaring with a well stoked fire, casting flickering shadows along her bed and her other furniture. She slid back underneath her blankets to watch the flames dance, but her mind quickly skirted to other things - one thing in particular. Cool fingers delved beneath her tunic to wrap firmly around the jawbone pendant nestled between bare breasts. She pulled the trinket out of her shirt, pressing it earnestly to her heart.

She would give almost anything to see it hanging around the slender column of his neck instead of her own, to feel it pinned between the sturdy wall of his chest and the soft curves of her own. Pinching her lip between her teeth to stop its trembling, she squeezed her eyes shut against a wave of tears.

_Vhenan... Why must things be this way?_

Her tumble into the fade surprised her; she was unsure how long she wept before she fell asleep. When her vision cleared, she found herself tucked against a grand tree, wrapped in furs but otherwise completely naked. There was no way to tell what time of day it was, for the trees around her were so crowded together that their canopies completely blocked the sky. The air around her hummed with life, lit only by a trail of lanterns through the forest, an indiscernible path.

That dense pit of loneliness in her gut seemed to swell despite the peaceful surroundings. She began to weep again, hiccuping into her furs, curling into a ball against a large, rough barked root. A howl echoed through the trees, but she ignored it. Let the beast take her, if it wished.

The somber sound drew nearer and nearer, and still Naia wept. She did not stop until a flash of white in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and her head snapped up, the huntress still ingrained into her being. A snowy wolf stood patiently a couple yards away, its baleful blue eyes wide and watchful.

_Solas._

But instead of relief flooding through her, her loneliness simply crested and her tears started anew.

“Go away!” she cried, burying her face in her furs.

“ _Vhenan_.” The word was spoken aloud, and she knew he had transformed into his true form.

“What game do you play at, Solas? Why do you taunt me like this? Always there, always watching, just out of reach?” She muffled her sobs against the blankets. “Go away,” she whimpered.

“ _Ir abelas_.” He turned to leave, and all of the sudden Naia found herself lurching to her feet, clutching the furs to her body.

“Wait!”

It was the closest he had ever gotten, since he had began visiting her in the fade. He stopped, his back turned to her, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. All she wanted was to run to him, to throw her arms around his neck and hold him to her and never let go.

Instead, she said, “Are you angry?”

“About?”

“What happened at your base.”

Solas chuckled, and the sound was thick with affection yet tinged with just the lightest shock of pain. “No,  _vhenan_. Though I did not expect you to employ Dagna’s expertise, I was not surprised that you would successfully infiltrate one of my operations.”

“ _Mi'nas'sal'inan_ ,” she murmured after a long pause, tears tickling her sinuses. She turned and slumped against the tree. Solas followed suit on the other side of the great root separating them, leaning against the trunk, their shoulders a foot apart.

“And I, you.” The words were small, a breathless sigh into the breeze, quiet enough that she almost couldn’t make them out.

Silence washed over them. Naia wept quietly to herself, occasionally swiping her hands across her cheeks to futilely erase the evidence. She wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed when she said, “Will you stay with me, for a little while?”

Solas sighed out a stuttering breath, and if she strained her ears, Naia could swear he was crying, too.

“ _Ma nuvenin, vhenan_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Mi'nas'sal'inan - I miss you  
> Ma nuvenin - As you wish


	4. Meeting

The scent of old wax permeated the air, mixing with fresh cider and newly laid ink. Candlelight flickered against the books encased by roughly hewn stone walls and the grand oak table standing proudly in the center of the room, washing the parchment lying atop it with a tinge of gold. Naia leaned her palms on the edge of the table, arms straight and taut, her face hovering above the notes and messages from their agents that were to be discussed in the meeting only moments away. Her brows drew tightly together as her eyes flicked over the words and drawings, piecing together the clues that would lead them to one of Solas’ next destinations.

One destination in particular was of exceeding interest. Solas did not intend to approach the location himself, instead organizing a party to raid the crumbling temple for an artifact he sought for his mission. Naia presumed the artifact must not be of utmost importance if he did not bother to retrieve it himself. The lack of his presence was a boon to her coalition, giving them the opportunity to ambush and possibly overtake one of his operations, and to acquire the artifact for themselves. Perhaps it could aid them in hindering Solas’ progress as much as possible, to better their chances of changing his mind.

Naia sighed. She clutched hope to her chest like the most precious of jewels, cradling the love and confidence in her vhenan and the honor of his soul like the treasure it was. She would not give up on him. But despite that vehemence, uncertainty nibbled away at the edges of her resolve. With each passing day that they did not catch up to him, with each second in the fade she spent face to face with him across a sea of endless fade, every time he walked away from her to wake alone, doubt hung like a shadow, a phantom whose icy talons raked ever so slowly along her spine. Naia did her best not to pay it any attention, hoping the neglect would starve it, but still it lingered, taunting her, distracting her.

She was exhausted.

But she would not stop until this world’s fate was certain, until Solas was safe in her arms.

As she flipped one of the pages to glance along another, the door behind her swung open to admit her council. Cullen filed in with a tired scowl tugging his lips downward, while Cassandra and Varric bickered back and forth on their way to the table. Leliana approached hesitantly, hands folded behind her back, her keen eyes roving over Naia’s stiff posture, documenting and tucking away each valuable piece of information she found.

“Which of our snipers will we have on hand in the next couple days, Cullen?” Naia’s voice was tired but firm, steel weaved through the pain and exhaustion so that her authority remained in tact.

Cullen dropped a stack of papers onto the table. “Cooper and Gallaghan will be returning tomorrow morning at the latest from their excursion to the Exalted Plains. Vaughn has been resting her bow arm, and should be healed enough for an assault. Hooper and Tori are prepared and ready to leave whenever we need them.”

Naia nodded thoughtfully, lifting her remaining hand to scratch idly at her chin as her eyes darted from page to page before her. “We are relatively certain of the location of this temple, yes?” She directed the question at Leliana, who nodded.

“There is one other elven ruin that we have not completely ruled out, however, it does not match the intel we have acquired as well as this more remotely located temple. We should know as soon as we reach the ruins if it is the correct location… We have planned everything to coincide perfectly with Solas’ search party.”

“Yes, but if we’re wrong…” Naia tisked lightly to herself. “We lose a chance at claiming a possibly very helpful artifact.”

“We do not even know what it does,” Cassandra protested. “Even if we do not find it, we are not losing an asset.”

“But Chuckles would be gaining one,” Varric countered.

“Obviously it is not that powerful if Solas chose not to retrieve it himself,” Cassandra snapped.

Varric held his palms up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not arguing that at all, Seeker.” His voice was soft, placating. “I am merely pointing out that it is much more advantageous for us to find ourselves in possession of this…  _artifact_ , than the would-be Elven god trying to destroy the world. Does he really need any more help in that regard?”

Cassandra sighed begrudgingly. “I suppose you do have a point. I just do not see why we need to send so many of our people after this lead.”

“Cassandra, you know as well as the rest of us that we could be grossly underestimating the forces Solas has assigned this task. He could be sending an entire fleet. We will need all the manpower that we have to ensure we do not lose anyone.” Leliana’s eyes flicked to Naia. “Though that does bring me to another point. I still do not think that you should be accompanying us, Naia --”

Naia growled, tipping her head back as the frustrated noise rumbled through her chest. “We’ve discussed this many times before, Leliana. I am going, end of discussion.”

“But if something were to happen to you--”

“Nothing is going to happen to me!” Naia snapped. “I’ve proven that I can defend myself, that I can lead an attack, when we raided the base where we found Brielle. We were successful, weren’t we? I will be fine. I can take care of myself. I am still a competent leader!” Desperation seeped into her tone. She turned away to wipe at the angry tears that had sprung to her eyes, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, until Leliana delicately cleared her throat. “I apologize, Naia. I did not mean to imply that you were incompetent. You know that I do not believe that, not in the slightest. We would be nowhere near where we are today without you and your leadership.” She stepped closer, moving until she was leaning against the table where Naia had been prior. “I simply worry for your safety. You are the only thing keeping us afloat. You are the only one who could possibly stop Solas. We need you. And the thought of something happening to you because we decided to chase a possibly useless lead…” She shook her head.

Naia sighed heavily. Her shoulders drooped dejectedly, the fight and anger draining from her small frame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I just--”

A soft knock on the door to the hallway halted her in the middle of her sentence. Everyone turned to look as the door squeaked open a few inches and the light of the room around them fell upon the gnarled, bright pink skin along Bri’s temple and then one wide green eye. When she realized she had caught their attention, she stuck her head through the opening.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted.” Her voice was cracked, dry. She warily watched them from her position, opening and closing her mouth as if hesitating to speak.

When she said no more, Cullen took a few steps toward her. “Are you alright, Bri?” he asked gently. “Did you need something?”

“I’m fine! I mean…” She licked her lips and swallowed thickly. “I just… I don’t feel safe with them,” she murmured sheepishly, a blush spreading along her cheeks. “I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. When you left, I…” She froze, her eyes flicking to the others.

Cullen’s ears flushed red, and he lifted his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Uh -- It’s alright, Bri. I understand. Here, come sit for a moment.” He gestured to the chair at the head of the table.

“Are you sure…?” She hovered in the doorway, uncertain.

Cullen’s eyes softened. “Of course, Bri. Please, sit. We’d like you to feel comfortable.”  _We’d like you to feel safe_ , were the words underneath.

Bri met Naia’s gaze, silently asking permission. When Naia smiled softly, Bri timidly returned it, relief washing over her features. She slunk to the chair Cullen offered, her fingers playing nervously with the edges of the handle of her bow, which was draped across her chest. As she sat, she removed the weapon and her backpack full of arrows, carefully dropping them onto the floor before sitting stiffly and staring down into her lap.

“Something important is about to happen, isn’t it?” she asked meekly. Her eyes lifted to scan each of their faces. “Your people can’t stop talking about it. Some kind of extraction mission, something that could change the game?”

Four pairs of eyes glanced to Cullen, their military leader. He shrugged guiltily. “I’ll have a chat with them about open discussion of missions. We don’t know who could possibly be an agent of Solas’.”

“I am more concerned with one of Solas’ agents simply lurking about our people, wearing the mask of a local merchant or serving girl.” Leliana’s expression was stern, but her tone was thoughtful. “If one of his agents managed to infiltrate us, they would likely know of the plan anyway, considering how small our forces now are. It is unfortunately not something we can easily avoid.” She smirked at Cullen. “Still, it would be wise for our agents to keep word of our plans to themselves.”

“Can...Can I come?”

Naia frowned at Bri, who wore the look of a rabbit ready to bolt at a moment’s notice of danger. The girl’s face lit up like a lantern as she flushed, as though she had overstepped some invisible bounds.

“I know that I’m...new. And possibly dangerous. I mean, I can’t remember anything, right? But I keep having these nightmares about these things whispering to me. I don’t know what they’re saying, but I can feel them hungering for some kind of power, for some kind of release, and it is terrifying. I wake up screaming, and returning to sleep is a challenge. I just…” She paused and took a deep breath. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. But I can’t just... go out and wander around. I believe in your cause. I don’t want to leave. But sitting here and waiting, I think I’m going to drive myself mad.

“So please. Please let me come with you. I can prove to you that I’m a good shot, that I can fight. Please.”

Naia met Leliana’s gaze, arching an eyebrow at the Divine before inclining her head toward a far corner of the room. “Let us discuss it, Bri. Varric, entertain her for a moment?”

Varric smirked, but nodded. Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana followed Naia away from the table, until the small group was tucked into the corner. Cullen stood watching as Varric began some overglossed story, leaning over Bri as she sleepily propped her chin in her palm.

“Leliana, thoughts?”

Leliana hummed pensively. “I am wary of bringing someone we do not know nor trust on such a crucial mission. We do not know her fighting style, or her loyalty. I am inclined to believe that she is no agent of Solas’ based on her behavior at his base. The terror I saw in her eyes was true and honest, no one could fake that level of trauma.”

“No, they could not,” Cullen added quietly. His tone spoke of someone who knew this better than most.

“I am unsure if I would wish to leave her here, however. Because we cannot trust her, I am afraid to leave her among our headquarters while the majority of our forces are out. Who knows what sort of mischief she would find herself in when left to her own devices? She is obviously quite intelligent, and very determined. Is that not how she managed to secure an escape from Solas?”

Naia sighed. “I have the same concerns. We really can’t afford to babysit on this mission, but we leave ourselves incredibly vulnerable by having her remain here. She says she would not leave, but I don’t want to take any chances. I still don’t trust her. I still want to know where she came from and what caused her memory loss, and that gash on her face.”

“Her appearance has been quite an inconvenience. We are stretched thin enough as it is,” said Cassandra, her eyes bright but tired. “I also believe we should keep her with us, if only to keep an eye on her. She seems to be able to handle herself in battle. If she wished any of us harm, she has had plenty of time to act on it.”

Naia’s eyes shifted to meet Cullen’s, her eyebrows raised as an invitation for his opinion.

He cleared his throat. “She will be easily folded into our forces, I promise you that. I shall have her train with a squad in the morning to better prepare them for her addition. I have no problem keeping tabs on her.”

Biting her lower lip between her teeth, Naia glanced over her shoulder to find that Bri had pressed her face into her folded arms on the table, finally able to succumb peacefully to sleep. Naia forced out a breath and turned back to the others.

“Then it’s decided. She comes with us.”

Cullen returned to the table first, beginning to stack all of his papers into a neat pile, carefully tugging one from underneath Bri’s arms. Varric had long since stopped talking, having successfully lulled Brielle to sleep, and instead studied a new design he had drawn up for Bianca, the tip of one thumb tucked unconsciously between his teeth.

As the three women wandered back to join them, Cassandra eyed Naia, a concerned and puzzled look hardening her already sharp features. She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it closed again, suddenly changing her mind. But the change lasted a second, and again her lips parted, tongue licking at them in consternation. “Naia,” she said softly. Naia looked up from where she had lifted a page from the table. “When we were at Solas’ base, a couple days ago. Did you also notice that he did not carry a staff?” Cassandra stopped next to Leliana as the latter perched herself on the edge of the table. Cassandra fiddled idly with one of the papers on the desk before crossing her arms and looking expectantly at Naia.

Naia rubbed her fingers over the parchment in her hands, gazing sadly down at the page - a wanted poster for Solas, the image a poor man’s copy of his chiseled face, lacking the warmth and passion that Naia knew so well. She let out a breath. “Yes, I saw that, too.”

“He is getting even stronger,” Cassandra murmured ominously.

Naia stepped away from the table, keeping her back to her friends so that they would not see the frustrated tears welling in her eyes. Solas was getting stronger. And the more powerful he became, the less time they had to change his mind. It had been six months since they had spoken about his plans, six months since he removed the anchor and her arm. In that time, he had amassed quite a following, easily plucking agents from all around Thedas, continually searching for the components needed for his final spell. The culmination of his hard work was right around the corner, and Naia could feel it - could feel the cold hard press of the future, its sharp claws dragging them ever closer. Dread had begun to build slowly in her gut, worse even now after their brief encounter a few days prior.

She had sensed the magic rolling off of him, had felt the thickness of it washing over her skin. The veil remained fully intact, and yet Solas seemed to  _breathe_  the fade as if no barrier existed between him and it. She knew she should be terrified of him, of his potential - hell, her agents were - but she could not find fear of him anywhere in the depths of her mind nor soul. She knew him too well.

Still, desperation wound itself like a vice around her heart. She knew Solas for his kindness and patience, his love and his open heart. But she also knew him for stubbornness, his passion and his dedication, and now his guilt. It would take everything she had in her to stop him.

She swiped at her eyes, rubbing the wetness away. Crying would not stop Solas. Only her own single minded determination would.

She spun back to face Cassandra and Leliana, who kindly pretended not to notice the splotchy red patches on her cheeks, nor the wetness still clinging to her lashes. “He _is_  getting stronger. But I know Solas. He will not hurt any of us unless he absolutely has to. And he would never let harm come to me. His mounting strength just means we must work harder and faster. This mission is a step in that direction. Any leverage we can acquire is leverage against Solas, and progress lost for his plans.”

She returned to stand at the table. “We leave at dusk the day after next. Let’s work out what supplies we will need.”

Cassandra and Leliana glanced at each other, a concerned look passing between them. Naia tried valiantly to hide her growing despair, but they had known her long enough to see through the cracks of her armor. Still, now was not the time to address it.

At the rate things were going, though, there might never be time.


	5. Journey, Part 1

Two days after the meeting, most of their coalition departed from the small castle on the eastern side of Lake Celestine. They left in small groups and multiple directions; their plan had each small cluster meeting up a day or so away from their destination, with a few instances of crossing paths to trade people along the way. All of this to appear more conspicuous, to hopefully deter Solas from hearing of their plans for as long as possible - as soon as he knew that their main base was empty, he would know that something was amiss.

They left a small group to defend the grounds if necessary, and to care for the animals and gardens left behind. The journey to the hidden location of the artifact on the south eastern rim of the Western Approach was expected to take three weeks at most - plenty of time to keep up with Solas’ forces, who, according to the intel gathered at Fen’harel’s base, did not plan to retrieve the item for more than a couple weeks.

Naia rode with a few of her agents, as well as Varric and Cassandra, who rode on either side of her and bantered playfully as the hours waned on. Naia welcomed the distraction; as each hour passed, she grew more and more apprehensive about what they would find when they arrived at the artifact’s location.

“Okay, okay, here’s another one. Why did the nug cross the road?” Varric asked.

Cassandra snorted. “Seriously, Varric? Are you asking me a ‘why did the nug cross the road’ joke? Really?”

“Come on, Seeker, humor me.” His voice was honeyed and teasing.

Naia grinned to herself. She thought about calling them out on their flirting, but she knew that they would both deny it. And she was afraid that pointing it out would make them stop.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “Ugh, fine. I don’t know, Varric, why  _did_  the nug cross the road?” she asked sweetly, her tone heavy and saccharine.

“To get away from the Divine,” Varric snarked, laughing loudly to himself.

Another disgusted noise, though this one was halfhearted. “Varric, that was terrible.You cannot make jokes about nugs and the Most Holy.”

“Please, Seeker, you thought it was funny.”

“So?”

Naia rolled her eyes. This was not the first of Varric’s awful jokes - and Cassandra’s not-so-secret amusement - and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. Finally, the sun began to sink into the horizon and the sky melded from bright blue into swirling pinks and oranges. They pulled off of the small dirt road they followed and walked their horses into a large cluster of trees, where they tied them to stakes and began setting up their tents. Loman, one of their front line men, pulled a stew pot from the small wagon pulled by one of the horses, and he sent two of the other agents out to retrieve root vegetables as he began to slice dried meat into cubes.

Naia and Cassandra built their tent together and then crawled inside, flopping onto their backs and staring up at the tent’s roof. Naia’s eyes fluttered closed. It had been a while since she had ridden on the back of a horse and not in a carriage; her thighs ached, the muscles taut and overworked, the inner strips of skin raw with welts.

“Seeker.”

Naia’s eyes snapped open as Varric’s voice filtered in through the gap where the flap to their tent swung open and closed in the breeze. Cassandra groaned but sat up, fisting her fingers in her bed roll.

“ _What_ , Varric?”

“Come out here.”

Cassandra shot Naia a look heavy with impatience. For a moment she didn’t move, seeming to contemplate whether she should acquiesce, but then she begrudgingly wiggled out of the tent.

Eyes sliding shut again, Naia grinned as the pair bickered outside, their voices growing faint as they moved further into the grove. Their banter gave way to the soft chirping of cicadas as they slowly emerged for the evening and the swish of leaves as the wind picked up. Naia gradually sank into slumber, the warmth of the fade welcoming her exhausted mind.

The hazy vision that usually greeted one when entering the fade cleared and focused into a great, grassy plain, the yellow-green blades bending and twitching as a breeze much like the one in the waking world swept through the valley she found herself in. A river bubbled a few yards away, babbling over smooth stones, the water crystal clear. Above her, blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon, no cloud in sight, and the sun hung directly overhead, its gentle rays bathing everything in rich, warm light. As she looked around, the valley began to warp ever so slightly, its features vibrating as they changed form to more resemble a place Naia had spent as a child. A small creek pooled against the side of the river, and bushes of edible plants flowered in clumps across the plains.

Far, far down the sloping hills, Naia could see a tall figure, its broad shoulders pulled back, chest out, hands tucked neatly at the base of its spine. She knew in her heart that it was Solas, but despite the relatively positive momentum of their last fade visit, she did not approach him. Too afraid that he would leave again, too afraid that he would turn his back on her, or remain on the other side of an uncrossable distance, as he had the past six months.

Instead she turned away from him and drifted through the tall foliage, her fingertips ghosting against their tips. Idly she noticed that her dreaming mind had returned her missing arm with an almost exact copy - the skin flickered hazily at times, shimmering slightly green at others - which it had a habit of doing ever since the anchor, and her limb, had been removed. She hummed softly under her breath, an old Dalish lullaby, and relished in the feeling of grass and warm, wet mud squishing between her toes. Sprinkled throughout the valley were wild flowers of vivid colors that she could not even describe. She began to pluck them from their stems, dropping them into the makeshift basket she made with the bottom hem of her shirt. When she had handfuls and handfuls of the colorful plants, she found a small clearing of short grass and sat cross legged, slowly weaving the flowers together into two crowns.

Some time into the first crown, she felt eyes lingering on the back of her head. She ignored him, focusing instead on her task and humming another tune. He said nothing for a long while, choosing to remain a few yards away, simply reveling in the act of being close to her. But after long moments, he came closer and said, “May I sit with you?”

She nodded silently, continuing to work. He sat beside her, his long, muscled legs stretched out in front of him. He wore the same outfit he had at Skyhold; leather leg wrappings and dark leather leggings, his wrapped undershirt and the olive green tunic. His jawbone necklace, however, was missing. She looked down to see it hanging between her breasts.

“What are you making?” he asked softly.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye, still afraid to look at him lest she scare him away. “A crown. Two crowns,” she added, after a brief pause. “One for you, and one for me. Is that alright?”

“Of course,  _vhenan_.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the endearment. Years ago, she had grown accustomed to the word rolling off of his tongue as easily as he breathed, had come to expect to hear it multiple times a day. Now, she felt the painful ache of its absence. She shoved the sadness away, determined to find peace in this encounter.

A minute later, and she had completed one of the crowns. She turned to him, letting her gaze fall on his face. He was sitting so very closely, much closer than their last shared dream. She could lay her head against his shoulder if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Instead she held out the crown for him. “May I?”

He nodded. She leaned closer as he bowed his head, lifting the crown up so that she could hang it delicately around his skull, resting just above his ears. Her fingers grazed the sensitive skin of his earlobes, and they both sucked in a breath. As she moved to return to her place next to him, one of his hands wrapped around hers - her right hand, the one that remained in the waking world. He held it against his cheek, his eyes locking with hers.

She tried desperately to keep her breathing measured, but her pulse jumped wildly in her throat. Her stomach churned like the ocean in a hurricane, and she felt her cheeks begin to warm.

Naia had noticed it when they met in his deteriorating base days ago, and she noticed again here in their dream. He was still so beautiful, his jaw and cheekbones like chiseled marble, his lips full and rosy and begging to be kissed, his eyes bright and shining with the love that still roared between them. All of the sudden she felt like crying, and it took incredible effort not to burst into tears.

Solas seemed to study her face with equal intensity and longing, his eyebrows bunching together and his nostrils flaring at his thoughts. He held her gaze for another long moment, and then turned to press a warm kiss to her palm. She mewled quietly at the contact.

The noise seemed to be too much for him. She had made it often, before, when they were together… simple, romantic gestures such as this often elicited it. He slowly released her hand and leaned back onto his palms, his eyes searching the sky. Naia was afraid that he may run away, but he remained, and her heart continued to thud. She resumed work on the second flower crown and for a while neither of them spoke, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

As she finished her crown, Solas plucked it from her fingers and laid it on her head, letting his hands ruffle the short chunks of dirty blonde hair. She had chopped it off immediately after returning to Skyhold once the Exalted Council had ended, and though she sometimes missed the waist length style she had before, she had to admit that the cropped look was much easier to maintain. He twisted a chunk of her bangs around his finger, marvelling at the silken feel of it. Years ago, she used to fall asleep with her head in his lap as he stroked her hair, nails scraping against her scalp.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

Naia giggled. “The haircut. Do you like it?”

“It is very practical,” Solas teased lightly. Naia laughed, her voice bright. “Yes, I enjoy this style on you. While I was quite fond of your hair before, this cut has a certain… temerity to it. It is not something I am used to associating with you.”

Naia smirked at him. “Are you trying to say I’m not badass?”

Solas chuckled. “ _Vhenan_ , you are the most  _badass_  woman that I know.” The word spoken in his voice, in that dry tone, sent her into a fit of giggles. “I am simply accustomed to the misleading sweetness of your appearance as it was before.”

Naia’s mouth fell open in disbelief as she laughed brightly. “Oh, am I no longer sweet, emma lath?”

He shook his head at that, and his grin was tinged with melancholy. “You are the sweetest flower that I ever had the privilege to behold.”

Naia’s smile turned sad at that, at the devotion in his tone. She had nothing she could possibly say in response, so instead she lowered herself to her back so that she could stare up into the sky, framed by the tall grass around them. Solas mimicked her position, the fingers of his right hand a mere breath away from the fade-augmented fingers of her left, reaching out but not daring to initiate contact.

“How do you know this place,  _vhenan_?” he asked.

Naia hummed, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her lips. “Shae and I used to come and play here. Ma would send us hunting for berries and herbs, but we’d just get distracted.” Her ghost fingers twitched. “Usually we’d go swimming in the creek just over there. Then we’d come and lay out under the sun, letting its warmth dry the water from our skin. I’d tell her stories. She did amazing impressions of our elders.”

Solas’ pinky finger brushed against hers. She suppressed the shiver that tried to race down her spine, taking a sharp breath and biting her lip between her teeth. They lay in silence, Solas’ hand slowly migrating closer and closer until Naia slipped her fingers to intertwine with his. His sigh encouraged her to squeeze his hand; when he squeezed back, she thought her heart might burst.

She turned to look at him, but just as her eyes met his, suddenly he was dissolving. She cried out, helpless against the pull of real life as the fade - and her vhenan - slipped away.

Naia’s eyes popped up to see Cassandra leaning over her, the seeker’s hand shaking her shoulder to wake her.

“Dinner is ready, Naia. I heard your stomach growling as we set up camp, I thought you might regret sleeping through dinner.”

Tears threatened at the corner of Naia’s eyes, and Cassandra must have seen the distress on her face, as her own features contorted into surprise. Before she could say anything, though, Naia sat up, schooling her expression and blinking away the wetness. Cassandra could not possibly realize what she had interrupted.

“Thanks, Cass. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

Cassandra nodded hesitantly, sitting for a moment, unsure if she should go, but a reassuring smile from Naia sent her on her way.

Naia breathed deeply, sighing and shaking her head. She only hoped Solas would return to her again in the fade.


	6. Journey, Part 2

Three days into their journey, Naia’s caravan crossed paths with another for a trade of supplies and people. She gained two new soldiers while she lost Cassandra and Loman. Naia joked with Loman as she helped load supplies from a mule to the other caravan’s carriage, her comments about missing his cooking earning her a low chuckle. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cassandra and Varric standing close together beside the Seeker’s horse. Naia grinned. The two had flirted  _endlessly_  as they traveled, half the time not even trying to disguise it beneath bickering.

At that specific moment, Cassandra stared down her nose and through her lashes at Varric, her arms crossed against her chest. Varric shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, the corners of his lips tilted upwards in a smirk as he murmured something to her. The disgusted noise she made was loud enough that Naia could hear the exasperation in it even from a distance .

Naia’s attention drifted to her other agents when one ambled up to confirm the next leg of their plans. When she looked back to the odd, flirtatious pair, Varric had handed some kind of small notebook to Cassandra. She flipped through the pages, brows furrowed in confusion until something seemed to dawn on her, and then delight sparkled in the hazel depths of her eyes. “Varric!” she gasped. She grinned down at him, the dimples in her cheeks flashing. She returned to the front of the notebook and began to read, her smile somehow growing even larger until she was pressing the open booklet to her chest, eyes closed in glee. “You did not have to do this, Varric.”

The dwarf shook his head before gently taking one of her hands into his and lifting the back of it to his lips to brush a kiss there. Cassandra froze, startled, her face burning brightly at the gesture as her smile slowly faded into a stunned little ‘O’. “Anything to see that smile, Seeker.” Cassandra giggled suddenly, quickly extricating her hand so that she could turn to slide the notebook into her bag.

Loman closed the flaps to the carriage, and then climbed onto his own horse. “Are we ready to leave, then, everyone?”

Cassandra mounted her horse, studiously ignoring Varric as her blush deepened. When one of her new companions shot her a sly sidelong glance, her little smile instantly vanished and her mouth settled into a scowl. “What are you looking at?” she asked icily. The man shrugged and moved his horse away.

As the other group left, Naia sidled up next to Varric, chuckling. “That was very smooth, Varric.”

“Whatever do you mean, Sunspot?”

She arched an eyebrow. “You know exactly what I mean. Getting a little cozy with our beloved Seeker, are we?”

Varric snorted. “I haven’t even gotten  _close_  to that lucky. No, I gave her a little sneak peak of the new chapter of Swords and Shields. I figure she needs a little joy in her life after everything she’s been through.”

Naia’s eyes softened as she appraised him. Then she smirked. “And the hand kiss?”

“Well.” Varric returned her smirk with a devilish one of his own. “Gotta woo the girl somehow, right?”

 

* * *

 

Varric remained with her through the next supply and agent exchange four days later. Eleven days into their trip, they met up with their third caravan. Varric left her at this point, but she gained Cullen and Bri, who looked particularly chummy.

As Naia and Varric folded up their tent, she frowned, taking in the sight of Cullen and Bri standing inches apart. “I am just damned to be the third wheel forever, aren’t I?” She shot Varric a look.

He smirked. “Well, hopefully by the end of this adventure, you and Chuckles will be the ultimate power couple.”

Naia sighed affectionately, rolling her eyes. “You better hope not, for your own sake.”

The two groups began to split apart.

“Be careful, Sunspot,” Varric said.

She felt a sudden surge of love for the dwarf. “You too, Varric. Say hello to Cass for me, yeah?”

He laughed and kicked his horse to catch up with the others. Naia sighed. She felt lonelier already without him.

The next few days of travel brought them to the edge of the Western Approach, where rolling hills of grass and tall green trees melted into bright, sparkling grains of sand. And more sand. And even more sand. Naia occupied herself with humming a variety of Dalish tunes and chatting with Tokia, the other agent gained in the swap. Tokia was a casteless-turned-surface Dwarf. Naia listened intently as the younger woman regaled her with tales of life underground, surrounded by stone and fire and disgust, branded with her casteless tattoo.

Cullen and Bri rode beside one another, blushing and laughing. Naia watched them enviously at times, when Tokia was quiet. She cursed her luck that she had fallen for the most complicated man in Thedas… If only he had been a normal elf, from a clan or an alienage. If only the sole secret he had was that he snored in his sleep, or wet the bed until he was a teenager. Hell, anything was better than ‘I’m the boogey man of your entire people who also just so happened to construct the veil and destroy our civilization’.

She was overjoyed that Cullen had seemed to have found some kind of happiness, but she could think of little more than her own misfortune. And as the days passed, her nerves spiked. The chance to gain a leg up in this constant struggle against her love… it was not an opportunity they could afford to miss.

Two weeks into the journey, together in the fade, Naia and Solas waded next to each other in a lake so deeply black that it looked like a mirror when it reflected the billions of stars gleaming in the sky above. Solas swam closer, playfully brushing his fingers against her shoulder until Naia giggled and squirmed away. Their game of cat and mouse continued until she was on her back on the closest bank, panting up at him as he hovered over her.

Despite his playful mood, Naia’s apprehension would not give her even this moment of respite. Solas must have seen something flicker in her eyes, for his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. Naia glanced away.

“ _Vhenan._  You have been quite distracted lately. Why do you refuse to tell me what is bothering you?”

She lifted her hand to rub her face. “Chasing you is a full time job,  _ma’salath_ ,” she said lightly.

Solas watched her carefully, before leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. “I worry you will wear yourself too thin, Naia. So many close calls in our pursuit of Corypheus…”

“I will be fine,” she said, but her voice wavered. “Everything is fine.”

He rolled them until he was on his back and she splayed against him. From this position, she could not see the consternation that pinched his features. Something had been on her mind the last few times they had met in the fade. She remained eager and pleased to see him, elated when he continued to interact with her instead of watching her like a coward from eons away as he had been the past six months. But some thought, some worry, plucked at the edges of her mind, tugging her attention away, even if for only very brief moments. It happened enough that he had become suspicious.

He would not press her on the matter. She would open up to him when she was ready, as she always did. Before he had ended things, she always came to him once her feelings were sorted, even if it took a few days for her to work through everything. His love craved a sounding board, a confidante, and Solas was proud to be the one chosen for the task.

He just hoped she continued to feel him worthy of that distinction.

Still, something niggled at him, with this distraction of hers. He knew that he would carry it from the fade into the waking world.

They parted ways some time later, having spent the night talking and laughing and cuddling. Solas rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone, sighing when she tugged her lip between her teeth. He did not dare say  _ar lath ma_ , did not dare kiss her, too stubborn, too afraid to let himself slip back into his feelings for her. He deluded himself about the nature of their near-nightly visits in their dreams - as long as they did not cross that line of intimacy, he could still go through with his plans. He could still walk away.

No greater a lie had been spun, and no greater a fool had lived.

With a small troubled smile, he sent her from the fade.


	7. Assault

The desert sun beat down on them as each group arrived at their final meeting point a mile from the artifact location. Sweat glistened on brows and soaked through armor and clothing and the panting of each agent sounded a staccato in an otherwise silent desert. The coalition set up camp at the base of the cliffs, hoping the vertical sheets of rock would provide some kind of cover from the sun as it set, while Naia and her council met in the first tent pitched.

“Everything is being set up now,” Cullen said. “Another tent is being raised for our equipment. We will have each piece of armor and every weapon vigorously cleaned and primed for the expected battle. Dinner will be prepared and served early so that everyone can rest before we head to the temple entrance.”

Naia nodded, thoughtfully nibbling at her lip. “Each unit has their orders?”

“Yes. We will be ready to leave at moon’s rise.”

Lace ran her fingers along the map on the table between them, her thumb brushing the spot marked as the entrance to the artifact’s lair. “My specialists are prepared as well. Jinea and Paule have already left to scout the entrance. I do not expect them to take more than an hour or two before they return with a full report.”

“Alright. It sounds like we’ve done everything we can for now. Let’s enjoy dinner as best we can and we’ll assess our status when our agents return.”

The next hour passed without incident, the men and women of their coalition settling in for a few hours of well needed rest before the assault. Dinner and stories were shared, with Varric regaling them with tales of the Champion, raucous anecdotes that Naia was fairly certain were untrue, though with Varric one could never be sure.

An hour later, and Harding’s scouts had not returned.

Lace hovered at the edge of the camp, pacing back and forth in agitation, watching and waiting. Cullen had his soldiers begin their task of removing the dust and grime of the desert from their weapons and armor.

Another hour, and still no sign of their agents.

“Something is not right,” Cassandra murmured. She stood next to Varric at the entrance to her and Naia’s tent, the pair whispering to fill the relative quiet that had settled over their people as time stretched on. Varric laid his hand across Bianca, as if comforting her, though Naia knew it was to comfort himself.

The sun began to set when Lace found Naia at the campfire, her mouth a hard line. “Something’s happened. I’m taking two agents with me to check on Jinea and Paule. We’ll come back immediately if there are any signs of trouble.” Naia touched her arm, and Lace sighed. “I’m worried, but I’m hoping for the best. We will back as soon as possible. Everyone should sleep while they can. Just in case.”

As the trio of scouts departed, the rest of the coalition retired to their tents to sleep. Cassandra curled into a ball on her side, finding the fade easily. Naia presumed Cass’ templar and seeker training had taught her how to lull herself to sleep in tense situations.

Naia stared up at the canvas of their tent. Her heart thumped in her chest, her nerves frayed. Something was wrong. Still, she managed to fall asleep, though her transition into slumber was fitful.

The fade swirled into sight, tall marble columns dappling a courtyard lush with green vines and tropical trees, bright pink and purple flowers blooming on their boughs. The broken walls of the courtyard folded around each other, forming something akin to a maze. Naia lay on her back, arms and legs spread across wet, vibrant grass. She jolted up, looking around. Dusk settled heavily around her, lanterns hanging on the columns casting dancing shadows - shadows that felt alive, like they were watching her.

Naia leapt to her feet. _Something_  was watching her. Terror shot through her body like lightning, her hair standing on end from the power of it. She looked all around, hoping for an exit from this place, but only endless walls greeted her.

A noise behind her, to her left. Something like a growl. She didn’t even think before she began to sprint in the opposite direction, whimpering softly to herself. She darted through archways and around looming columns, leapt over decrepit, decaying walls. The sound behind her continued its pursuit, and no matter how hard she ran, she could not outpace it.

It sounded closer than ever when she tripped over a root. She flung out her left hand - augmented as usual by her mind - to catch herself, but her fear sapped the limb of its solidness, and her hand sank into the column she meant to use as an anchor. The lack of resistance sent her sprawling forward onto her belly, a shriek torn from her chest. She trembled in shock from the fall, but before she could catch her breath, the growling loomed above her, the beast panting wetly.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“ _Vhenan_ , it’s me.” Solas knelt beside her, his hands outstretched. He pressed one palm to the small of her back, hoping to calm her. She peeked over her shoulder, and as soon as she saw that it was indeed him, she cried out, rolling over and flinging herself into his arms. He hummed comfortingly, rocking her back and forth, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Naia, why were you running from me?”

She sniffled against his neck. “It didn’t sound like you. It sounded like some kind of beast.”

As she leaned back, he cupped her face in his hands, studying her face. His eyebrows drew together. “You are trembling,  _vhenan_. What is wrong?”

She averted her eyes. “It’s nothing. I mean… No, it’s nothing.” But despite her words, more tears spilled hotly down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, the stress of the hours spent waiting for news from her agents finally too much for her to hide. And Solas could sense it.

“Naia --”

A loud crash erupted around the corner. Naia gasped, fresh fear clamping around her heart. She yanked Solas to his feet, shoving him away from the noise with her remaining hand.

“Solas, you have to go. You have to go! Something bad is coming.”

“ _Vhenan_ , stop.” He tried to wrap his fingers around hers, but she swatted him away.

“ _Emma lath_ ,  _go!”_

Before Solas could protest again, Naia turned and sprinted toward the noise as the nearest wall exploded into shards of granite and dust. She woke abruptly, wrenched roughly from the fade. Shouts and chatter greeted her. Beside her, Cassandra yanked her armor on over her clothes.

“Naia, hurry, you must get dressed. Lace returned. Jinea and Paule are dead. Solas’ agents arrived before we did, and they killed them. We must act quickly to catch up to them before they reach the artifact.”

Naia rolled to her feet immediately, leaning down to grab her leathers. The next ten minutes were a frenzy, as each agent and soldier donned their armor and grabbed their weapons. They climbed onto their horses and sped as a group toward the entrance to the temple, egging the beasts closer until they could drop to their feet and sprint through the open doorway. Lace Harding led the charge, darting down hallways lit by veilfire.

As they ran, Naia couldn’t help but notice that the temple so far was simply stone hallway after stone hallway, that every door led to another hallway.

They careened around a corner, straight into two of Solas’ agents, archers with their bows held aloft and ready. They tugged their nocked arrows back, about to fire -- when they saw Naia and froze.

“ _Fenedhis_ , it’s Lavellan!” One exclaimed, and the pause in their assault left a window wide enough for Lace to press a dagger to one of their throats and for Cassandra to shove the other up against the wall with her shield.

“Tell us why we should not kill you,” she hissed.

The elven man merely glared at her.

“Where are the rest of your people?” Lace demanded, the tip of her blade on the verge of drawing blood. The agent at her mercy yelped.

“They are about to enter the central chamber. You’re too late. We will secure the artifact for Lord Fen’harel.”

Naia stepped up next to him, hovering a breath away from his face. “Tell us where the central chamber is,  _now_. I understand that  _Lord Fen’harel_  has forbade you from harming me, but do not think for a moment that I will hesitate to kill you.” The man swallowed. “Where is it?”

He begrudgingly led them further into the maze, while two soldiers left his partner - bound tightly and gagged - back at the entrance to the temple. They found themselves standing in front of a massive, thick oak door swinging open on its hinges, a minute behind Solas’ agents.

“It’s in there,” their captive murmured, “but I don’t know anything else. Velan and I didn’t get past this post.”

Naia and her coalition wandered through the doorway, their mouths agape with awe. Beyond the door, a veritable oasis sprawled before them, tucked away like the most sacred of secrets. The roof of the cavern was not visible, too high up to be seen. Trees hundreds of feet tall and many feet across crowded the space, moss clinging to their trunks, vines swooping from branch to branch. Birds tittered and crowed as they soared on a breeze blowing through the small forest. On the ground, the giants were surrounded by bushes and flowering plants.

“Oh my gods,” Naia whispered.

The group moved slowly through the underbrush, picking their way across rocks and small hills. If one simply woke up here, they would be hard pressed to believe that this place existed inside a cliff. Naia was having trouble believing they hadn’t walked into another dimension.

“The magic here is...wow.” Cullen shook his head. He had been off lyrium for years now, but whatever magic that lingered in this oasis was powerful enough to trigger his almost nonexistent abilities.

“The artifact is in here somewhere,” Lace said quietly. “Come on. We have to find it before Solas’ agents do.”

They moved quickly, trying their best to ignore the marvels of the temple as they revealed themselves. A crystal clear brooke wound around some of the trees, gazebos of pure white stone perched on top of flattened, raised hills. Ahead of them, out of sight, Solas’ agents shouted back and forth in elven, searching desperately for the artifact.

“They know we’re catching up to them,” Naia whispered.

They found them sooner than expected, climbing over the crest of a particularly tall hill to see the agents of Fen’harel clumped around one of their own, who looked as if she had tripped over something. Two of the agents were arguing, and from what Naia could interpret, the pair was trying to decide how many of them to send ahead.

“Hey!” she shouted.

The men stopped and spun to face her.

“Creators, you have got to be kidding me,” one of them groaned.

The coalition drew their weapons and advanced. Naia pointed her dagger at them. “Surrender your weapons. We do not wish to hurt you, we simply wish to find the artifact.”

One of the two men narrowed his eyes. “ _Tel'nua_  Inquisitor.  _Dala alinen_.”

And then the elves attacked.

Three of the seven agents were mages, which complicated things. Naia lurched out of the way of a fireball, only to find herself encased by a barrier - cast by the enemy. She didn’t even have to time to question it before she was being shoved out of the way by one of the elven warriors, the woman sneering down at her. Naia watched as Cassandra collided with the woman, sending her sprawling onto her stomach.

Solas’ agents were good.  _Very_  good. Cullen had brought some of his best soldiers, Lace had brought her best agents, but the battle was long and arduous. Naia did her best to help, but the strongest of their enemies, an old elven woman with the vallaslin of Elgar’nan, kept her barrier up, continuously sending Naia flying with bursts of magic to keep her out of the fight.

In the end, all of Solas’ people but the injured woman lay dead, as well as many of the coalition’s members. The injured woman cowered away from them, hands over her head in surrender.

“ _Aneth ara_ ,” Naia said as she knelt next to the woman.

Wide blue eyes lifted from where they stared at her captors’ boots. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I promise no harm shall come to you if you promise the same of us.” Naia held out her hand to the woman, who eyed it warily before taking it and being helped to her feet.

She leaned heavily on her left foot, arm around Naia, her right lifted off the ground. “As we were lookin’ for the artifact, I tripped. Musta broken something, it hurt so bad.”

“Let’s sit over here, okay?”

The remaining members of the coalition took the opportunity to rest, the one healer still alive making her rounds to give everyone a boost. Naia sat with the Elven woman as her foot was wrapped, listening to the events she had experienced in the last few weeks. She had joined Fen’harel’s army very recently, desperate to escape the hell of an alienage in the Free Marches. She had learned how to fight properly in that time, but she hated combat. Despite that, she was chosen for the mission; her trapping skills exceeded nearly every other of Solas’ agents.

“We’re very close, now, to the artifact. It should be down through that crack in the cliff, over that hill.” The woman gestured to a nearby slope.

Cullen, Harding, Cassandra, Varric, and Bri - all of whom had survived the battle - climbed the hill with Naia to gaze down at the gap in the rock below.

Naia sighed loudly and rubbed her chin.

“I think we made it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Aneth ara - Friendly, informal greeting  
> Tel'nua Inquisitor. Dala alinen. - Do not hurt/bother the Inquisitor. Kill the others.


	8. Betrayal

Scout Harding and two of the remaining twelve agents stayed behind to keep an eye on the Elven woman, while everyone else clamored down the hill to the gaping wound in the side of the small cliff. Naia carried a veilfire torch down the dark tunnel. No one spoke, too wound up from the battle and too anxious to finally have their hands on the artifact.

The tunnel opened up into a small grove of leafless crystalline trees, their trunks the color of spun glass. Veilfire lanterns in the rounded wall surrounding the grove exploded into life, one after another, their green light slowly illuminating the small room. At the center of the trees there was a small clearing, and in this clearing a tall pedestal perched atop a raised platform. Resting on a pillow there was a small cylinder, its color a perfect match for the sea; the hue shifted and changed as the ocean could at any moment.

“There it is,” Naia whispered.

Her agents and soldiers held back at the edge of the grove, but Naia and her companions moved to stand before the podium. She looked over to her friends, meeting their eyes, unsure and a little afraid to step closer to the artifact. After all, they had no idea what it did. Finally her eyes fell upon Bri, who stared at the artifact as if entranced, a strange almost-smile on her face.

“You okay, Bri?”

The girl started, looking around as if she just realized where she was. “What? Oh… yes. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just...it’s really pretty.”

Naia turned back to the object. It was beautiful. It resembled a small flute, its cylindrical shape pocked with small holes along the top edge. The glass seemed to  _breathe_ , the cerulean color waxing and waning like the waves against a beach. She stepped up onto the platform, edging closer to the podium before hesitantly lifting her hand toward it.

Everything happened so fast. Her fingers hovered mere millimeters away from the artifact when white hot, searing pain exploding through her right side, just below her ribs. At the same time, she heard shouting and screaming, what sounded like Cullen’s hoarse voice, Cassandra’s shriek. She realized as she began to fall that the screaming was her own voice, the sound ripped from the depths of her soul as she was shoved away from the podium.

Time seemed to slow as she spun in the air. Marks of white light snaked up and down every inch of exposed skin on Bri’s body. She grabbed the artifact, staring down at it through glowing eyes, an ugly grin twisting her lips upwards. Cullen lunged at her, but she dodged him, sending him careening into the podium and off the end of the platform.

The trees and lanterns and cliff wall around them began to slowly dissolve into sand, the grains spilling into piles as their surroundings melted away. Varric drew Bianca, preparing to fire, and Cassandra screamed as she charged.

The instant Naia’s back slammed into the ground, the cascade of sand ceased. Bri’s body launched into the air, spun toward the entrance of the grove, and then hung there, her arms and legs stretched out. Cassandra dropped to her knees, stunned into inaction, and Varric slowly lowered Bianca to rest against his foot. Naia dragged her attention away from the dagger embedded in her side, from the agony crackling through her blood. When she looked to where they had entered the grove, her eyes fell on Solas, his eyes glowing purple, his hand up as he held Bri in the air.

A snap of his wrist and she slammed into the ground, her palms and knees breaking her fall. The artifact in her hand shattered instantly. She growled as she attempted to climb to her feet, her eyes and body still glowing white, but Cullen snatched her wrists and pinned them behind her, forcing her to her knees.

“Maker’s breath, Bri, what are you doing?!”

The light faded, and she lolled forward for a moment before snapping back up, her eyes wide and now clear, though confused.

“Cu-Cullen…? What’s going on?  _Ah!”_  Her bewildered tugs on his grip sent tendrils of pain zigzagging up her arms. “Maker, my wrists…! They feel broken… What happened?” She looked to where Solas now cradled Naia in his arms and gasped. “Naia!”

“ _Vhenan_ ,” Naia croaked.

“I am here, my love.” Solas pressed his forehead to hers while his hand sought the blade in her side, gently removing and dropping it to the ground, and then ripping the leather of her tunic open. Blood seeped from the wound, even as he pressed his fingers to it and surged his healing magic through her skin.

“What happened?” Bri asked again, sobbing.

Cassandra growled and lurched toward Bri, snarling, “You know exactly what happened!”

Varric seized her arm before she reached the girl, holding her back.

“Seeker, I don’t think that’s the greatest idea,” he said, trying to pacify her.

But Cassandra trembled with barely restrained rage. “Unhand me, Varric! Look what she has done!” She tried to shove him off, but the dwarf persisted, pulling at her until they were a few yards from Bri and Cullen.

“Cass, the girl was completely out of it. Did you see that glowy shit? Let’s worry about Naia first, alright? She’s more important.” He stared up at Cassandra until she met his gaze, her eyes red and shining with terrified tears. She nodded once, after a small moment of hesitation.

“What are you talking about?” Bri cried. “Cullen, please. What do they mean?”

Cullen said nothing, disbelief and horror still etched in the lines of his face. Instead he kept his eyes locked on Solas and Naia, as tears streamed down both elves’ cheeks. Naia sucked in wet breath after wet breath, struggling to remain awake. Her right hand clutched desperately at Solas’ armor.

“Something is not right,” Solas muttered, and trepidation tinged the edges of the words. He poured more healing magic into the wound, but the bleeding did not slow. And while the wound was mortal enough that an average mage, even an excellent mage, would be hard pressed to mend it, something prevented even him from stitching it back together. The blood just kept coming. Solas felt panic begin to rise like bile in his throat.

Naia’s breaths started to come in hitching gasps. Her eyes flicked aimlessly over his shoulder, out of focus. She was dazed and quickly losing the battle for consciousness. “I’ll be okay, I promise…” It took visible effort for the words to spill past her lips.

“What’s the problem, Chuckles?” Varric asked. He clasped Cassandra’s hands in his own, methodically massaging them to keep her calm and distracted, though nothing could stop her tears.

“I cannot stop the bleeding. The wound will not heal.” Solas’ brows pressed together as his hands began to search and prod, hovering over different parts of Naia’s body as he tried to feel out what was blocking his magic. For a moment, he didn’t think there was anything, but – there.

“What is that…?” A shadow in her veins, swirling through each limb, shrinking away from his prying spell, ducking into crevices in her cells. He lifted his eyes to Bri, a murderous look contorting his features. “What did you do?” he demanded.

Bri shrank away from him, though she could not go far with Cullen still holding her firmly in place. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything!”

“What did you do to that blade?”

“I don’t know!” Bri shrieked, her voice cracking tearfully.

“Tell me!” The rage rumbling just beneath the surface began to boil over. A strange fizzling sensation washed over the room, like a thousand tiny pinpricks in the air, as Solas’ magic ignited in his anger.

In an instant, Bri’s skin and eyes lit up and she cackled, her voice low and rasping and sounding like an entirely different person. Everyone in the room froze and stared as she spoke, the dark tone curling around each Elven word as if the language was second nature.  _“The indomitable Fen’harel, the great Dreadwolf himself, cannot heal a simple cut? How the mighty have fallen,”_  it sneered.

“How are you…?” Solas’ voice was whisper soft, disbelief fraying each word. He gaped for a moment, his mind working furiously, and then his anger exploded. “How did you do this? What magic is this?”

Bri cackled again, throwing her head back in mirth.  _“When have I ever shared my secrets with you, child?”_

“Enough!” Solas growled, and the sound was frantic and dismayed. In his arms, Naia wheezed painfully, whining softly under her breath, half lidded eyes watching him dazedly.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the white light illuminating Bri’s eyes and body faded. She gasped as if she had been drowning, slumping forward and pulling heavily against Cullen’s grip.

“What is happening to me?” she sobbed. “Why is this voice in my head?”

“Bri--” Cullen looked from her to Solas and back again, shaking his head. “What’s going on? Where do you keep going?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know…” Her shoulders shook quietly as she wept.

Solas looked around helplessly, before his eyes caught on the gleam of the blade lying next to Naia. He snatched the dagger up into his free hand and examined it closely with his magic, studying the spell that reverberated from the metal and shimmered with barely visible light through the blood smeared along its edges.

“I know nothing of this spell…” Solas felt the panic threatening to overwhelm him now. He did not know what magic Bri had used to poison Naia - whatever it was was beyond his knowledge and abilities. He did not have a cure. His magic was not enough.

Tears spilled hotly down his cheeks as he choked out a breath.

He was not enough. He could not fix this.

Another damn mistake. More pain for those he loved.

“What’s going on, Chuckles?” Varric’s voice was laced with steel. He had to be brave for Cassandra, who was on the precipice of snapping and doing something reckless to their newest companion. “What’s the deal with the dagger?”

“I do not know,” Solas said quietly. He tried his best to keep the emotion from the words, but his voice wavered.

“What? What do you mean, you do not know?” Cassandra stepped closer to him, hands hanging loosely at her sides despite the threat of violence in her tone. “Are you not a god, Solas? You must know!”

“I said I do not know!” Solas turned to his friends. “This magic is nothing like mine. I do not know how to counteract it!”

Naia jerked suddenly in his arms, her back arching as she writhed in pain, a cry torn from her throat. Blood spurted between Solas’ fingers against her wound, and on her skin smokey black tendrils wove around it, snaking outwards toward her limbs even as deep purple bruises began to bloom along her belly. The poison, whatever it was, moved quickly. Devastatingly quickly.

“ _Vhenan…_ ” The endearment was weak, a sigh against his collarbone. “I’m dying.”

“Do not say that,  _emm’asha_. I will fix this.”

She slid her hand up his arm to his jaw, cupping it with rapidly cooling fingers. Her thumb rubbed comfortingly along his lower lip, and her smile was small, but fond. “I don’t think you can fix this, my love.”

He pressed his forehead to hers again, eyes clenching shut as she struggled to suck in a breath. Despair slithered up his spine to wrap around his heart.

“ _Sathan, vhenan_. You cannot leave me now. Not after everything we have been through together.”

_“Ir abelas, ma sa’lath_. I do not want to go…” She cried out again, her body contorting in pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh gods, it hurts. Oh gods.”

Solas watched her helplessly, his tears spilling freely. He pulled her closer, letting calming magic seep into her, trying his best to ease her pain. As her chest pressed against his, he felt something sharp jutting against his sternum.

Looking down, his eyes caught on the wolf jawbone necklace he had left for her. She never took it off, not since she had found it beneath her pillow after Corypheus’ defeat. A tiny voice in the back of his mind plucked at his subconscious, a thought bubbling up to the tip of his tongue.

This token… An object of deep sentiment…

Mythal’s suppressed spirit exploded suddenly into his awareness.

The necklace. An ancient spell. A soul torn free and tucked away in case of emergency. A second birth.

Solas glanced to Naia’s face. Her eyes were screwed shut, eyebrows drawn together and mouth a taught line.

There was no other option, was there? This was their only chance.

“ _Vhenan_.” He held her up, helping her to sit upright. One hand cupped her cheek, urging her eyes open with an insistent stroke of his thumb along her cheekbone. “Naia, you must listen to me.”

Her eyes had clouded, death’s fingers dancing along the edges of her mind. But she tried her best to pay attention to his words. She could not miss the urgency of his tone. “What’s wrong, Solas?”

“I have a plan. But you must listen carefully.” She nodded weakly. “Many, many years ago, there existed a very powerful spell, the  _Sal’ethast_ , that could transfer one’s soul into a cherished possession for safekeeping, and could then be extracted and reborn.” His free hand tugged hers from his arm and wrapped them around the jawbone. Naia’s eyes widened.

“I have never performed this spell, but I researched it extensively in my curiosity, with Mythal’s aid. It is the only way to save you. The spell will be… it is exceedingly painful to experience. You may wish for death’s embrace instead, but please, you must resist its siren call. Your soul will need time to establish the magic needed for the rebirth, but if everything goes according to plan…”

He trailed off. Nothing  _ever_  went according to plan, not when he had any part of it.

Naia clutched fiercely at the necklace in her hand, her gaze searching his. She was understandably hesitant - she was no mage, had little familiarity with spells of any kind, let alone one of this magnitude.

“ _Please_ ,  _vhenan_. Open your mind to the possibility. We are running out of time.”

Behind him, the white light of Bri’s eyes and skin flickered, the being inside her struggling for control. She twitched violently, fighting it back. “Get out, get out, get out…” she muttered.

The markings ignited.  _“You don’t have the balls, Fen’harel!”_  it howled tauntingly. Almost immediately Bri regained control.

Solas closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose against Naia’s. “Ignore it. Close your mind from everything but my voice. Listen to me. This is the only way. I cannot lose you,  _vhenan_.” His voice cracked on the endearment. “Not like this. We must at least try.  _Sathan_.”

Naia sighed, a long deep breath to clear her mind. And then, “Alright. Do it.”

Solas sighed in relief, panic and desperation pumping through his body, his adrenaline skyrocketing. He was not entirely sure if this would work… but he had to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Sal'ethast - the action of making a soul safe  
> Sathan - Please  
> Emm'asha - My woman  
> Ma'salath - My one love


	9. Sal'ethast

Solas wrapped one hand around Naia’s as she hugged the jawbone necklace to her sternum, curling his free arm around her back so that he could haul her to her feet as he stood. She yelped at the action, the jarring movements further igniting the pain of her wound, of the poison swirling through her body. Once on their feet, Solas pressed his forehead once again to hers.

“Close your eyes,  _vhenan_ ,” he said as he closed his own. “Think of the object in our hands, of its importance and value to you. Center yourself and your mind as deeply as you can on it. It must consume every thought, every emotion.” He clutched her tightly to him as he focused his mind on the spell, shoving away any doubts so as not to hinder his attempt. He prodded at the edges of the fade, gently tugging energy through the veil, letting the spell flow into being. At the same time, he pressed his mind against Naia’s, probing for some kind of foothold into her being so that he could draw it out.

Magic swirled around them, twirling into a ball that encased them and slowly lifted them off their feet to levitate higher and higher. The jawbone began to heat, tingling against their fingers, and energy seeped off of their bodies, each unique to their own being. Solas could feel the sharp, tangy buzz of Naia’s soul, the sweet core of her true self as it churned around them. The poison leeching onto her body clung desperately to her energy, fighting against the separation, but the ancient spell began to nip cleanly along the seams that held Naia’s soul in place.

“Solas!” Naia’s voice rang with fear, the sensation and pain of the spell something she had never felt before. It tore at her, at the very fabric of what made her,  _her_. Solas could feel how close he was to extracting her essence, and how close he was to sealing her away to recoup.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_. Fight well. The void shall not reclaim you this day.” Solas’ voice wavered. He could only hope that he was right.

“ _Ar tas’lath ma, sa’lath_ ,” Naia whimpered, just as Solas crushed his lips against hers, their kiss a mirror of the one that removed her arm. He pulsed his magic, once, twice, and finally once more, each wave more powerful than the last, continuing to seal his mouth over hers to swallow her scream of agony until the force of the spell erupted between them, her soul completely rended from her body. His eyes snapped open, and they glowed purple as he gently guided the brightly colored wisp that had appeared into the necklace. When the act was complete, he began to wind down his magic, closing his connection to the fade and lowering their bodies back to the floor. Naia collapsed into his arms, and though  _something_  about her felt different, still her body held some semblance of the life it previously sheltered. An echo of her.

There would be no confirmation of his success until weeks had passed and he attempted to revive her. Now, he slowly knelt again, cradling her body in his arms, holding her closely as her echo gasped for breath, standing directly in death’s shadow.

“Solas?” her voice was small and broken.

“ _Vhenan…_ ”

“Did it… did the spell work?”

“I...believe so. But I will not know for certain for quite a time.”

Naia smiled weakly. “But you think it did? You think it worked?” There was no denying that death’s icy fingers tugged at her.

“Yes,  _vhenan_. I think it worked.”

Her smile stretched across her cheeks. “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Cold, clammy fingers loosened from around the necklace between them and lifted to cup his jaw. “Solas, everything will be alright. I promise.”

_But how do you know?_  He thought he had performed the _Sal’ethast_  correctly, but the folly of such a powerful spell was the delay of its results. He knew that first hand. What if he had forgotten something crucial, some intrinsic step? What if she walked into death’s arms as her soul was transferred? What if he never held her again, kissed her again, felt the press of her laugh or basked in the sparkle of those mischievous eyes?

Solas pressed his forehead to hers, tears streaming freely. “You truly believe that,  _vhenan_? That everything will be alright?”

A tinkling laugh puffed her breath against his lips. “Yes. I’ve always believed that. I have always believed in you.”

And she had. Her trust and faith had never wavered, even after learning his true identity. Still she loved him, still she believed in him and the goodness in him, still she saw him as worthwhile.

His eyes clenched tightly closed. “I do seem to remember that about you.”

She sucked in a sudden breath, her body stiffening. “Solas!”

He buried his face in her neck and weeped openly, stifling his small sobs against her skin. “ _Ar lasa mala revas_.” A hiccup, and then, “You are free.”

Naia’s body went slack against him. Solas clung to it, his shoulders trembling as all of the emotions raging through him finally boiled over into hot tears and wet, gasping sobs. The fear that he had just watched her die, lost to him forever; dread that he had not done the spell correctly; conflicting and confusing thoughts of abandoning his mission, the same ones that had frequented his mind during his time with the Inquisition; and the rage pinpointed on the girl and whatever being possessed her.

Around him, his friends watched the scene unfold. As Naia’s echo passed, no eye was dry.

Bri’s tortmenter seized advantage of the stunned, emotionally charged moment to take over again.  _“Fool! Do you truly believe that you have the power needed to perform such a complicated spell? How does it feel to know you just watched your heart die? The brat never should have gotten in the way. She certainly learned how to meddle in affairs far beyond her simple understanding from you, didn’t she?”_

“I said enough!” Solas flung his arm out, sending a sharp bolt of magic sizzling toward Bri’s body, but Cullen jerked her backwards, twisting her so that his body shielded hers from the spell while simultaneously creating a nullification barrier around them. Cullen had been off lyrium too long for the nullification to be entirely effective, however - instead of dissipating completely, Solas’ spell fizzled into a sharp jolt that struck Cullen’s back and ricocheted around him, drawing a heavy grunt of pain.

“Leave her be!” he growled over his shoulder. “She is possessed! These words are not her own, whatever’s she saying!”

Solas turned away, hanging his head.

Cullen looked down at Bri, who had returned to herself and stared tearfully at her knees.

“Something is wrong with me, Cullen,” she whispered. “There’s something inside me. It’s getting stronger…”

“Let us take her,” Cullen said to Solas. “Let us try to figure out what is causing this, what these marks on her are.” After a moment, he added softly, “Please.”

Solas’ eyes roved slowly over the gentle slopes of Naia’s face, slack with death.

_No. She lives. This was but an echo._  Still, he could not deny that seeing her lifeless and devoid of her usual brilliance and warmth had sent his emotions into a tailspin, dragging him below the surface of a thick sea of doubt. His heart had been torn asunder as he felt the tiny remaining fragment of her depart from her physical form, how on earth would he be able to suffer through her actual death at his hands, because of his actions and his plans?

“Take her,” he murmured. He lifted Naia into his arms as he stood, walking to the raised platform when Cullen still held Bri captive. “Return to Skyhold. There is an eluvian in a small town on the outskirts of the Dales that you may use to enter the Crossroads and significantly shorten your travel. My agents will assist you. I shall rejoin you there once the  _Sal’ethast_  is complete and Naia breathes again. If by then you have not unearthed the cause of this girl’s duality, then it shall be done my way.”

He wore a mask of stone, features masterfully schooled to show no emotion, despite the loathing and suspicion for the woman bubbling just below the surface. If she still lived when he had his turn to deal with her…

Solas could be a vengeful man.

“Now go,” he commanded. Cullen stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Cassandra watched him tearfully from her knees in Varric’s arms a few feet away. Their soldiers and agents had fled as soon as the walls and trees began to collapse around them.  _“Leave,”_  Solas growled.

Cullen jerked Bri to her feet, praying for the being inside her to remain at peace. Together, he, Cassandra, and Varric made their way toward the entrance of the grove. Cullen stopped and said, “And Naia? Her body?”

“I shall see that it is taken care of.”

Cullen watched Solas, the air between them heavy with emotion, though that emotion was hard to identify. Gratefulness? Anger? Understanding? Neither could say. Cullen nodded thoughtfully and then left with the others.

Solas tipped his head to clear the remnants of the keystone Bri had attempted to steal so that the platform was clean and empty, then gently laid Naia’s body out across it, arranging her legs and her arms, folding her hands together across her belly. The color had drained from her face, though blood remained flecked along her skin. He gently swiped the droplets away before lowering his face to hers and pressing their foreheads together, then wrapped his fingers around the jawbone necklace still looped around her throat.

“Rest well,  _vhenan_.”

He brushed his lips against hers in goodbye, gently lifted her head so that he could remove the token now harboring her soul, and laid her back into position. Dropping the leather cords over his shoulders, he stood and looked down upon her body, still feeling the pull of the storm of emotions her ‘death’ evoked.

But he had work to do, to ensure she returned completely intact and completely herself. He spun on his heel, and as he left the grove of crystalline trees, his eyes flashed purple and the entire temple began to dissolve once again into sand. A swirling green orb around him protected him from the cascading grains as he exited the temple, never looking back.

Long after he returned to his main base, the temple was no more than a pile of dirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ar tas’lath ma - I love you, too


	10. Revelations

Water dripped with tiny  _plunks_  against the stone floor of her cell while golden light washed against the walls and the form huddled in the corner of the small room. Bri rested her chin on her knees as she pressed them to her chest, aimlessly watching the drip, drip, drip of the leak. Lines curled around her eyes, purplish bags resting above her cheekbones - tell tale signs of her sleeplessness.

The voices and images were all she dreamt of, now. Every time her mind touched the fade, they renewed their assault, suffocating her with their will, and the constant terror she now felt kept her awake whenever possible.

But she struggled. All of the events of the past few weeks had been exhausting, and she was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that she was possessed, that some other creature had taken up residence in her brain. She started to nod off, her breathing and heart beat relaxing, a small sigh puffing out against the rips in her jeans.

Just as she slipped into the fade, Cullen strode through the door to the dungeons, the heavy oak swinging against the wall with a loud thud. Bri jolted awake, but the sudden departure from the onslaught of the creatures waiting for her left her disoriented, and the being had no problem slipping into control, illuminating Bri’s eyes and the marks on her body.

“ _Vara_ , shemlen,” it sneered.

Cullen hung cautiously a few feet back from the metal bars that made up one wall of the cell. “I want to speak to Bri,” he said firmly.

“ _Pala i’dar’missan_ ,” the voice spat. “Do you think I have any desire to interact with a quickblood? You disgust me.”

“Yet you chose a shemlen as your vessel, did you not?”

The being growled, and Cullen knew he had hit a nerve. “Do not test me, boy. I chose her for her inherent weakness.”

“Let me speak to Bri. Now.”

“You and your kind shall fall, shemlen. We rule as emperors, as Gods! We walk upon your corpses as our royal carpets. Do not be foolish enough to think that you are the one in control here. I could rip you limb from limb with my mind, should I so choose.”

“Then do it!” He was tired of this game, of the cat and mouse this  _thing_  had been playing ever since they had brought Bri to Skyhold to await Solas and Naia’s return. He wanted answers, and his patience was wearing thin.

Bri leapt to her feet and lunged against the bars. “When I am finally free of my shackles, I shall destroy you and whatever shares your blood. I promise you that.”

“Using the body of a simple shemlen archer? You would be powerless to try.”

She tilted her head back and crowed with such enthusiastic laughter that Cullen thought she might have finally lost it completely. “Ignorant fool. This vessel shall die, and yes, my seed within her mind shall die as well. But I will continue to live on, and you only fuel my distaste for the vermin that are your people.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Even if he had to provoke this monster to violence to get his answers, get them he would. He stepped closer, glaring. “How in the void do you expect to continue living if the being you possess dies? Are you some kind of demon? Will you return to the fade to ambush another?”

“A spirit? With this much power? Ha!” It dissolved into laughter. “No spirit could ever hope to wield this much power. Spirits are useful, yes, and certainly they possess their own kind of strength, but they are simple and singular in purpose and mind. What spirit could possibly concoct a plan as grand as I did? What spirit would have the presence of mind to weave the events of time as I did? Ha! A spirit, the shem says. I should be offended, if it weren’t so ludicrous a thought.”

Cullen watched the being carefully, his mind working furiously. Not a demon, then? If not a spirit, then certainly something Elven in origin, for how else could it speak fluently in their language? He needed to draw more clues out somehow.

“A successful plan, it seems,” he said slowly.

The being grumbled in annoyance. “Yes, until Fen’harel shoved his dirty nose into my business, as usual. The Dread Wolf always did have a way of mucking everything up just when you thought you had everything. He is certainly paying for that now that we are free, running like a mutt with its tail between its legs.” It laughed heartily again. “Not such a proud wolf now!” it wheezed between giggles.

Cullen gaped, all of this new information churning in his mind, a terrible jumble of new revelations. The being spoke as if it knew Solas personally, and for a very long time. But now that they were free?  _They?_

It sighed, then. “I do believe the huntress may have caught on, though. That thing in the woods could only have been one of her creations. I will be sure to pay her back later for meddling in my affairs.”

Bri suddenly jerked her head backwards and began to shake violently until the light faded from her eyes and the marks on her limbs. She collapsed to her knees, panting, white fingers wrapping around the bars of her cell.

“Please,” she gasped. This had been the longest the creature had ever had control. Cullen knelt in front of her, covering her hands with his own. “Cullen… I started to remember. I started to get my memories back.”

He leaned in closer, meeting her eye. “What did you see?”

“This is wrong,” she muttered, her eyes closing. “This is wrong, I shouldn’t be here. I’m in the wrong place. I’m at the wrong time. I feel so wrong…”

“Hey, hey.” Cullen cupped her cheeks in his palms. “Bri, look at me.” She opened her eyes, blinking through tears. “Slow down. Take a deep breath.”

She followed his instructions, concentrating on the air as it flowed in and out of her lungs in a long, measured drawl.

“Now, start with something easy.”

“There was a mirror. A big mirror, bigger than any I’ve ever seen. And I was looking for it. I was looking for it because they were destroying the world.”

“Who, Bri? Who was destroying the world?”

“The Evanuris, the Gods. They enslave my people, and the Qunari and the Dwarves. They torture us, they use us. I can’t… I can’t remember much of my childhood, just that I didn’t have a family. I lived in a camp, and they experimented on me, shot me up with electricity. It was every kid for himself. But I wasn’t good enough…. they left me in a forest to die when I was ten. And ever since then, I dedicated myself to taking them down, I had to stop them, I had to--”

Her body stiffened suddenly and light exploded from her eyes and down her body. Cullen’s attention latched on to the visual, the way the marks ignited like lightning bolts down each limb… He jumped when her hand shot out to snatch at the sword hanging from his hip. He managed to grab her wrist just as her fingers circled the handle, lurching forward to pin her arm between him and the bars of the cell.

“I will see your guts spill before the moon rises, templar,” the being hissed. “I shall make sure you regret every second you spent with the girl.”

“Why do this?” Cullen demanded. “Why torture her this way?”

“Because despite Fen’Harel’s untimely arrival, ultimately _she_  failed! I spent decades preparing her for this mission, and she blew it. I worked very hard to hide my plans from the others, to condition this shem just the way I needed to. All she had to do was stop Lavellan from breaking the keystone, and return to me with it, yet somehow she altered time enough that Fen’harel became alerted to Lavellan’s mission, and then this brat shattered the keystone herself! Because of her, I will have to do it all over again, especially now that she is learning to fight me. I will have to send another agent. What a waste of time!”

The hand seeking the blade continued to tug on the hilt while Bri’s other hand shot up toward Cullen’s face to scratch at his eyes. He caught her fingers after she dug out a chunk of his cheek, pinning it against one of the metal bars.

“Bri! I know that you can hear me, you must fight this!”

A humorless chuckle rumbled in her chest as the being strained against him. “Fool. She is  _nothing_. She will never be able to keep me from controlling her. And as soon as she returns to our time, as soon as she informs me of her failure, she will die, and her death will be slow and agonizing. She will feel the consequences of her mistake.”

“Bri, please. Come back to me.”

“Do you honestly--” Cut off mid sentence, Bri’s fingers slackened as the light faded and she returned to herself. She panted as she slumped against the bars. When she lifted her head, she immediately noticed the blood trickling down Cullen’s cheek from the gash she had gouged out with her nails.

“What...what happened? What did I do?”

“It wasn’t you. It was the…  _thing_  inside you.”

“Oh, gosh,” she whined, gently swiping at the blood. “I’m so sorry, Cullen. It keeps crawling inside me. Every moment it claws for control. I’m so tired… I don’t know if I can keep fighting…”

Cullen tucked her fingers within his and held their hands to his chest. “You must, Bri. Everything this being told me… It cannot win. It cannot be freed. It spoke of being from another time, that you are from another time--”

“I am!” She shook her head. “I know it sounds ludicrous. I know my memories haven’t all returned, but I feel wrong here. Everything has seemed off ever since I woke up in Solas’ base, but I could never figure out why. And now I remember. I came through that giant mirror I see in my memories, I came through it from another time, from the future.”

“Maker’s breath, I don’t…” Cullen’s eyebrows pulled together, a deep furrow forming between them. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to give voice to his thoughts, but they were too jumbled. Time travel was no new concept to the people of the Inquisition. After all, the Inquisitor had stumbled through time herself to a future where Corypheus had been successful in conquering the world. But the Eluvians did not take people through time; they simply allowed travel to the crossroads. He supposed it was not outside the realm of possibility that the Evanuris had stashed away a particularly special Eluvian…

“I know it seems crazy, but it’s true. I was looking for something to help in the fight against the Evanuris, to stop them.”

“The Evanuris…? But Solas imprisoned them thousands of years ago--”

“Yes, but when he tore down the veil, they were more than he could handle. They had been building followers, had been planning and plotting. He had to flee. He’s been fleeing and stealthily supporting the underground resistances for centuries, trying to start another uprising.”

“The veil does not exist in your time? Naia failed?”

“The veil is gone. That must also be why I feel so different here. We dream in the future, but nothing like this…”

The telltale stiffening immediately prior to the being, the Evanuris, taking control alerted Cullen in time so that when it attempted to writhe away from him, he had a firm enough grip on Bri’s hands.

“You can piece together all the clues you wish, but you will not stop me. I will bleed you dry myself, and I will return to my time. Do not delay me any longer!”

The glow of the Evanuris’ possession flickered, the two battling for dominance. The Evanuris won, for the moment, sneering at Cullen. “The longer you hold me captive here, the worse she shall suffer at my hands when she returns to our time. Do you really want to be the cause of more anguish?”

The light flickered again for a long moment, and this time Bri emerged, her face collapsing into an expression of agony. “Cullen, make it stop! Please!” She yanked her hands away from his and fell backward, rolling onto her knees and cradling her head in her hands as she rocked back and forth. “Please…”

Still, she flickered as she struggled with control of her own mind. Neither remained dominant, flipping back and forth, though Bri managed to hold on longer than her counterpart. She cried out for Cullen, sobbing brokenly, and he could not stop himself from unlocking her cell door and charging in to wrap his arms around her trembling body.

She gasped as the lost control for a second, then regained it, curling her fingers into his fur mantle. “Cullen, you have to kill me.  _Please._ ”

“Maker’s breath, what in the void are you talking about? I am not going to kill you!”

Bri buried her face in his neck, pressing the words against his skin. “Please, Cullen. There’s no--” A pause as she flicked away for a second. “Fuck. There’s no way I am getting through this. I’m losing this battle, I can’t do this anymore!”

“You’re not… You can’t be serious.”

She arched away from him as she fought another shift in dominance. “Look at me, Cullen. I am begging you to end this misery.  _Please_. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I don’t want to hurt _you_.”

They stared at each other - Bri constantly flashing with white light, Cullen furiously trying to see a way out of the situation.

But he could find none.

He lifted one hand to her face, stroking her lip with his thumb. “I am glad to have known you, even if only for a brief time.”

Her responding smile was watery but warm. “I feel entirely the same way.”

Cullen drew his sword from its sheath, curving his arm around her back and positioning its point between her shoulder blades.

“Maker guide you,” he murmured, his voice cracking.

The split second before he sank the blade into her back, he impulsively swooped forward to press his lips to hers, kissing her fiercely as he delivered the blow to end her life. She whimpered, kissing him back with all the fight she had left in her. As she began to fade away, Cullen removed his blade and lowered her to the floor of her cell, intertwining their fingers and hovering over her, hoping his presence was of some comfort in her final moments of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Vara - shoo  
> Pala i’dar’missan - Go fuck a sword


	11. Rebirth

The next few weeks passed with a flurry of activity. Solas allowed his agents to continue whatever assignments they had received prior to the incident with the artifact at _Tel'vindhru'an_ , but had not issued any new commands once he returned to his base. He spent his days wandering the halls of his temple, occasionally slipping through the Eluvians to visit favored locales, Naia always safe in the pendant bouncing against his chest.

Her interruption of his agents as they attempted to retrieve the keystone had thrown quite a wrench into his plans - and into his thoughts. He thought of her endlessly, of the agony on her face as she slowly succumbed to the poison, the glimmer in her eyes as she smiled at him even as she slipped away, her determination that everything would be alright in the end.

Watching her die, seeing the life leave her body, haunted him. He always knew that her death would destroy him, but he thought that he could handle it, he thought he  _had_  to, for his people. He had not considered he would be witness to it. But to actually experience it? To actually know the misery of that moment? Doubts had begun to sprout in his mind. Yes, watching her die was significantly different than merely hearing about it later. Now, though, he thought it would be absolutely more devastating to not be the one to cradle her as she passed, to press a kiss to her lips as she smiled one last time - to not know if she died still loving him, still believing in him.

Perhaps he  _could_  find another way - perhaps they could together. Even in his dreams, before this event, his resolution had begun to crumble. He swore to himself that he would remain at a distance, always untouchable, that simply observing her was enough to quench his thirst to have her in his life. He should have known how foolish the concept was. When had he ever been able to resist her? He always placed new boundaries on himself, and somehow she always dismantled them one brilliant smile at a time.

The emergence of one of the Evanuris also disturbed him, even if it was simply a geas imposed on an unwilling subject. He suspected it to be Dirthamen, but he could not be certain. It didn’t really matter, did it? All that mattered was that somehow, the Evanuris had acquired an agent and infiltrated a highly secure operation. It did not bode well for the moments following his removal of the veil, and ultimately the weakening of their bindings.

On this day, he wandered the open halls of an old Elven castle in Southern Tevinter, its walls smattered with strings of vibrant climbing vines flowering with buds of blue and orange. Waterfalls cascaded down the rocky cliffs the castle had been built into - it had been designed to take full advantage of the views of the falls and the gap in the mountains to the east, so that one was gently roused from sleep by the water rushing by as the sun peaked over the horizon and washed the earth with morning light. A small balcony branched off of the hallway, hanging over the pool at the bottom of one of the falls, half of the space dusted with spray from the plummeting water. The balcony remained in the sun for most of the day, heating the stones to a perfect temperature for lounging and relaxing.

He thought that Naia would love this place. She was like a cat with the way she loved to stretch languidly in the sun, soaking up the rays and practically purring with pleasure. He had often found her lying half naked on her own balcony at Skyhold, a welcoming smile curling her lips when he leaned against the door frame. Once their relationship had progressed, he allowed himself to rub his fingers along the exposed skin of her shoulders and stomach, reveling in the warmth there. His vhenan was so full of life, it radiated off of her.

The change in his plans was so subtle, it took him a long moment to notice. He would not live without her. Not any longer. They could do this together. They could save his people.

Birds chirped as the flew overhead, playfully darting around one another. Solas wrapped his hand around the jawbone necklace as he watched them, his fingertips caressing the grooves and notches in the smooth bone. The pendant seemed to hum against his skin - as it had done ever since he transferred Naia’s soul into it - but today was different. Today it hummed as if it was communicating to him.

It was time.

Solas wasted no time as he rushed back to his headquarters. He informed his agents to leave him be until further notice, and to offer no distractions under any circumstances. One of them handed him a letter as they nodded, bidding him adieu. Solas unsealed it after closing the doors to his quarters, letting his eyes rove over the weathered parchment as he moved to his desk.

It was a missive from Cullen and the others waiting at Skyhold, detailing the events leading up to Brielle’s death, and all of the information the former Commander had learned. Solas frowned down at the paper. He had hoped to interrogate Bri himself, to get answers, but it seemed he had missed his chance. The specifics of Dirthamen - or whoever it had been’s - plans startled him, as did the apparent future that awaited him and the other people of Thedas. It was obvious that his People had returned to their former glory, but at what cost? He did not wish for things to simply go back to how they were before his rebellion. A rush of relief washed over him. He felt validated in his decision to accept Naia’s help, to change his plans to find another way. Perhaps he would now avoid his folly.

Solas stowed the letter away in his desk, then began shoving all of his furniture away from the center of the room so that he had clear space to work. He lit a couple lanterns with veilfire before moving into the open space and removing the wolf jaw from around his neck. It pulsed gently in his hands. He levitated the pendant, a small bubble of magic lifting it from his hands to hover just below his chin, and then he closed his eyes to focus his mind on gently drawing Naia’s soul from it. The room around him vibrated with the force of the spell. As Naia’s essence began to trickle from the necklace, Solas opened his connection to the fade, pulling energy through the veil to join Naia’s in the air before him. He focused on his memories of her, the shape of body, the dimples of her smile, shaping and molding his magic around her soul.

Solas wove and spun his magic for an hour, just to be sure he had done everything correctly, perfectly. When all was said and done, Naia stood naked before him, her body cast in green and the wolf jaw pendant hanging from her neck. Light shimmered around her. His eyes opened, glowing purple as he pinched and threaded the seams of her soul into the physical form, and when all felt complete and whole, he gently ushered the energy of the fade back through the veil to return from whence it came.

Naia’s body tipped forward into his arms. He caught her easily, scooping her up and carrying her over to his bed to lay her on the thick furs and blankets. Sitting beside her, he ran his fingers along her eyebrows, brushed his fingertips against her lips, dragged his knuckles across her jaw. The soothing motions stirred her awake. When her eyes fluttered open, they blinked a few times and focused on his face, confused and dazed but intent. Solas’ mouth twitched into a smile, a smile that was promptly answered with a huge grin that flashed her dimples.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” she murmured, her hands lifting to slide along his shoulders and up his neck, cupping his face in her palms. “ _Ma’isha. Ma vhenan’ara. Ma’uthlath. Ar lath ma. Ar ir’lath ma._  Your face, your smile, is the greatest sight one can wake up to after such a long slumber.” He swooped down to kiss her, crushing his lips against hers. She hummed into it, pulling away to murmur  _ar lath ma_  over and over between light pecking kisses. He tugged her up into a sitting position so that he could wrap her in his embrace and bury his face in her shoulder. She cradled him against her, rubbing soothing circles into his back. When he began to tremble, she pulled back to look at his face, surprised to find tears streaming down his cheeks. “ _Vhenan_ , why are you crying?”

“ _Unmi’nas’sal’inan_ ,” he said as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I was afraid that I would not see you again.”

“You can see me any time you’d like, Solas.” She glanced away. “I’m sure we’ll be parting ways again soon, but you know can always come to visit me in the fade…”

“No.” Her gaze snapped back to his face. “No, I will not visit you in the fade.”

“But…?”

“I had hoped you would remain here, by my side. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to find a way to save my people together.”

Tears prickled at the corners of Naia’s eyes. “You...really?”

“Yes,  _vhenan_.” Solas chuckled at the wonder in her voice.

She launched herself back into his arms, kissing him fiercely, pressing her tongue into his mouth to deepen it. When they broke apart, gasping for air, she nuzzled the tip of her nose against his, sighing happily.

“No,  _ma’salath_. We shall save our people together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Tel'vindhru'an - the place of non-truths (the Elven name for the temple where the keystone was kept)  
> Ma’isha - My man  
> Ma vhenan’ara - My heart's desire  
> Ma’uthlath - My eternal love  
> Ar ir’lath ma - I love you so much  
> Unmi’nas’sal’inan - I missed you


End file.
